


He Could Be That Boy

by hedgerose, penguinutopia



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:29:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5176976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgerose/pseuds/hedgerose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinutopia/pseuds/penguinutopia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The question isn’t whether Jamie and Tyler are living the plot of a teen movie.  The question is which one.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>The first time Jamie meets Tyler, he's kind of blindsided by Tyler's smile.  It's wide and bright like sunshine, and Jamie finds himself smiling back before he can really think about it.  "Hey," Tyler says,  "I'm Tyler.  Can I, uh, borrow a pen?"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	He Could Be That Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to our lovely artist! You can find the awesome cover image for the fic [here](http://mistfarer.tumblr.com/post/132836573129)!
> 
> A huge, huge thanks to our betas, especially [fouronforeplay](), who stayed with us for three days to make sure this got edited properly and is, like, 95% of the reason this fic got finished in the first place. Thanks also go to [Holly](http://hollyandvice.tumblr.com) for cheerleading and yelling at us a lot, and to the always-fantastic [Tina](http://idoltina.tumblr.com), who isn't even in this fandom but gave this her best shot. Thanks to [Lauren](http://queenofeden.tumblr.com) for her knowledge of _Les Miserables_ and performing arts high schools; thanks to [Daniel](http://kaltheras.tumblr.com) for answering our questions about teenage boys.
> 
> We're just… ignoring everyone's relative ages for the purposes of fic. Sorry. There are detailed warnings and a full list of pairings in the end notes.
> 
> This fic does not contain Patrick Kane.

**Chapter I: Be Your Shelter**

Tyler is fourteen and he thinks he's probably drunk; the room in front of him is kind of fuzzy and his fingers all feel too thick. He's on a couch in someone's basement-- one of the guys had told him whose it was before handing him a plastic cup full of beer, but he's forgotten, by now, and the beer is gone, and so is the one after that, and the one after that, and...

Brad is sitting next to him on the kind-of-gross couch. Brad's been so wonderful and nice to Tyler, even though Tyler's the only freshman on the varsity soccer team, even though most of the other boys make him feel like he hadn't earned his place on the team-- but he'd just tried out, same as them, there's no difference between any of them except age. Brad is there, and Brad won't let anything bad happen to him. Brad has this girl with him, and she's all pressed up against his front. Tyler can feel how warm they are, can't really focus on anything but the way their mouths are moving against each other. He leans his head against Brad's shoulder and sighs, looking at the girl. 

Brad pulls back from the girl, and they're not kissing any more, but Brad's kind of laughing, and the rumbling Tyler hears through his chest is nice. There's a conversation that he doesn't really pay attention to, because Brad and the girl aren't kissing any more and now it's boring. But Brad says his name, and Tyler looks up. "Tyler," Brad says, all serious and not laughing any more, "this is Chrissy. She's going to take care of you, okay?"

Tyler nods, or he thinks he nods, and the girl-- Chrissy-- she leans down to kiss him, instead, and it's warm and a little wet, and it might be even better than watching Brad kiss her. It's not Tyler's first kiss, or even his fifth, but kisses had been rare enough for him that this is-- it feels different, this time. "Hey," Chrissy says, smiling against Tyler's mouth. "You're just the sweetest little thing, aren't you."

Tyler bites his lip and tries not to freak out too much, because there's a girl, and she's got her mouth on his neck. It's warm and nice and Brad is there-- and maybe he kisses Tyler, too, maybe he's the one who sucks a hickey into Tyler's neck while Chrissy grinds against him-- but Brad won't let anything happen to him, he promised. 

It's warm, it's warm, it's warm, and Brad is there, and Chrissy is almost as nice as Brad is. 

But in the morning he wakes up cold and sticky from alcohol and he doesn't know what else, alone on someone else's couch, and he misses the warmth.

* * *

Jamie’s going to start this school year right. His brother and sister have both graduated, his audition for the school orchestra went insanely well, and he’s (hopefully) not such a dork any more. Not that his schedule really reflects that-- he’s taking three APs, honors orchestra, and honors French 3, because Jamie honestly likes school. He likes music more, of course, but that’s why he’s at Northridge Lincoln in the first place: it’s the best charter school in the state for visual and performing arts. 

So: Starting this year right. Which means not falling all over himself in front of the hot new guy on the first day of school.

The first time Jamie meets Tyler, he's kind of blindsided by Tyler's smile. It's wide and bright like sunshine, and Jamie finds himself smiling back before he can really think about it. "Hey," Tyler says, "I'm Tyler. Can I, uh, borrow a pen?"

Jamie bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling like an idiot and passes Tyler a ballpoint pen.

Because it’s the first day, they go around the class and introduce themselves (in French, of course, and Jamie would feel a lot more confident about it if he’d practiced over the summer more. Or at all.) Jamie learns that Tyler’s a transfer from Boston, lives with his aunt, and that he’s here to play soccer. 

He does his best to pay attention for the rest of French and manages to only fumble his own introduction once. Monsieur Fleury can be a total hard-ass to students who don't keep up, and Jamie doesn’t intend to let on that he’s really out of practice with his language skills. He keeps sneaking glances at Tyler, though-- the smudged ballpoint ink on his upper arm that was probably a drawing at some point, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his voice sounds when it's his turn to read. Jamie knows how dumb it is, because there's no way that someone who looks like him-- too short, and, well, there's a reason that his brother still calls him Chubbs-- is going to be even remotely interesting to a guy who looks like Tyler. He's never been good at talking loudly enough to be heard, never really been someone who would be _noticed_ , let alone picked out of the crowd.

Jamie's sort of holding out hope that he's going to grow at some point before his senior year, because his brother had shot up four inches the summer before, and even though Jordie is kind of a dick, at least he sometimes acknowledges that Jamie's his brother in public. And even though Jamie’s trying not to be a dork this year, all he does aside from classes is orchestra. He's a pretty damn good cellist, even with what the competition is like at Northridge Lincoln High, but he knows that being an orchestra geek isn't really a draw. 

(And besides that-- besides everything else-- Jamie is really pretty damn sure he's gay. Between the way that he doesn't want Tyler to stop smiling and the-- uh-- _research_ he'd done on his sister's old laptop-- yeah, he's sure.)

Wanting the year to go right doesn’t mean that Jamie’s not realistic or practical; he knows he’s not the most attractive guy in the room. (That guy is Tyler. Definitely.) By the end of class, Tyler’s flirted with half the girls and only looked back at Jamie twice. Not that he was counting. But for some unknown reason, Tyler follows Jamie into the hallway, not any of the girls, and asks him where the art room is. Jamie blinks stupidly and tells him, and Tyler flashes that smile at him again.

It’s not the weirdest thing, though-- the weird thing is that it keeps happening. Tyler asks Jamie to work together on their first French project. Tyler finds him at lunch and tells stories that Jamie’s not really sure he should believe. Tyler leans in too close, touches Jamie too often to just be friendly, but he does that with everyone. Jamie isn’t special, not like that-- he's got other friends, sure, but he's never been someone's person. He doesn’t know why Tyler keeps choosing him, but he likes being the center of Tyler’s attention.

They work on the project at the library during their free period for the first three weeks of school. Tyler's French is kind of terrible, and Jamie's isn't much better, but they manage to get through the project and both make it out with a solid A-. When they get their project back, Tyler holds his hand up for a fistbump that Jamie mistakes for a high-five, so it's this weird thing and they start laughing in the middle of the class, helpless with it, until M. Fleury yells at them to shut up, only in French.

But as much as he learns about Tyler, and as many stories as Tyler tells, there are still things that Jamie doesn’t know about him. Things that he wants to know, things that are-- he wants to know why Tyler transferred schools, since his family still lives in Boston. He wants to know why Tyler has a sign up in his locker that says _Say No More_. Deep down, Jamie wants to know if Tyler likes boys, or if he’s just-- overly friendly. Tyler doesn’t talk about girlfriends, although Jamie knows he’s had no shortage of offers, but he doesn’t talk about boyfriends, either. He talks about Brad, his best friend at his school in Boston, but he never talks about visiting-- he’ll say _me and Brad got so drunk after we won State that I think I saw sounds-- me and Brad built a potato cannon in physics class and almost got suspended-- me and Brad and this girl_ \-- that story stops there, because a bunch of the girls from the winds section find them, and Tyler’s too busy with them to keep going. 

Tyler's friendly with everyone, but he’s almost aggressively uninterested towards anyone who actually wants anything more. It's-- Jamie would worry that he was homophobic if Tyler didn't reject girls and the few boys brave enough to ask the same way. He's kind of a dick, sometimes, but Jamie doesn't know any boy his age that isn't. Tyler teases, gives people shit about stuff that really shouldn't be a big deal.

But Jamie-- Jamie wants to be around him anyway. Maybe that makes Jamie kind of a dick, too.

It’s not like Jamie’s told Tyler everything, either. He doesn’t-- he hasn’t come out yet. To anyone. He doesn’t really want to come out, not yet. He knows that he'd be supported at school, because NLH has a great GSA, and no one wants to get in the way of Julie Chu or Amanda Kessel (or Amanda's brother Phil, who had started the GSA before he graduated, and really, no one wanted Phil angry at them), but Jamie's just-- he's not ready. 

At winter break, though, Jordie comes home from college, and he's the same older brother that he's always been. He treats Jamie like he's five years younger than he actually is, but he also sneaks Jamie a beer a few days before Christmas and drags him up to the attic to stare out the window at the stars. "So," Jordie says, poking Jamie in the shoulder. "Tell me about her."

Jamie looks down at the open bottle in his hands. He's only had a sip or two; he doesn't really like beer, but he appreciates that Jordie gave it to him. That isn't going to make this conversation any easier, and if he thought he could get out of it, he would. "There's no her," he says.

"Okay," Jordie replies, and Jamie knows that's not going to be the end of this. After a too-long pause-- Jamie holds his breath and looks up and finds Gemini and the three stars of Orion's belt-- Jordie says, "Tell me about _him_ , then."

Jamie exhales. "It's okay?" He knows his brother won't hate him, but he's still-- it's nerve-wracking. 

"Dude, it's fine. What's his name?"

Jamie glances sideways at Jordie, and his brother's got a soft look on his face. "Tyler," Jamie says. "He's in my French class."

"You guys friends?" Jordie asks, and Jamie nods. "You think he'd--"

"I don't know," Jamie interrupts. "And I'm not-- I'm not ready to, like, join the GSA or come out to anyone else yet, so don't-- I don't know."

Jordie slings an arm around his shoulders. "Don't worry, bro-- I got your back."

After that Jamie breathes a little easier, sips his beer and leans into Jordie’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he says, softly, and Jordie just squeezes his arm and points out Cassiopeia.

* * *

But coming out to Jordie gives Jamie the confidence boost he’d kind of needed to show up at the GSA halfway through January. He knows a few people in the club-- TJ and Lu are in orchestra with him, of course, and everyone knows Julie, Hilary, and Amanda. The first time he just sits in the back and listens to everyone talk. It’s January, and there’s not a lot going on, but they’re all talking about going to a conference that Jamie’s never heard of. One of the guys in the club that Jamie doesn't know says _my boyfriend_ offhand, like it's nothing, and Jamie takes a deep breath in, out.

He's gonna be fine.

But Tyler pesters him about it during their free period, wanting to know why Jamie had missed lunch. "We missed you at lunch-- Willie was asking where you were."

"I was at a thing," Jamie says, trying to be as vague as possible and not look at Tyler. “Club meeting. You know.”

Tyler laughs. "Sounds scandalous," he says. "No, but really, Jamie, where were you? Tomas showed up with this massive hickey, and we were all giving him shit about it."

And that-- that's why Jamie hasn't told Tyler, because Tyler does that, gives people shit sometimes, and he doesn't want Tyler to make fun of him for this. 

"Just-- a thing," he says, and he expects Tyler to keep bugging him about it.

But Tyler goes still next to him, instead. "You don't have to tell me," he says. "I don't-- I just wanted to know where you were."

Jamie thinks this might be Tyler's way of saying _I missed you_ , and he lets it slide. "I'll be at lunch tomorrow," he promises. 

It takes about a month of Jamie missing lunch on Wednesday before Tyler says anything, and Jamie's almost impressed by his patience. It might help that Tyler's busy with rehearsals for _Into the Woods_ and he he's got a lot more going on than he usually does. It doesn't make him any less terrified when Tyler comes to him on a Thursday during his free period and drags him into a corner of the library. 

"There's only one club that meets on Wednesdays at lunch," Tyler says, and Jamie's heart is suddenly in his throat. He should have thought of that before, he should have-- but he doesn't want to lie to Tyler, and if he was planning to lie, he should have made up something when he first started going.

"Yeah," Jamie mumbles, and he knows his voice is too quiet, even though he's been working on being heard, this year. He looks down at Tyler's knees instead of at his face, because he doesn't think he could deal if Tyler looked disgusted, or whatever.

"Hey," Tyler says, and he touches Jamie's shoulder. Jamie can't help his flinch back, and Tyler lets his hand fall back to his side. "Jamie, can you just fucking look at me for a second?" Tyler asks. His voice cracks in the middle of it, and Jamie's still anxious, but he looks at Tyler's face.

Tyler's smiling, and Jamie’s pretty sure it’s a happy smile, not an _I’m about to fuck you up_ smile, and Tyler says, "Me too. I mean, if you're okay with me coming, I want to--"

Jamie can't think, can't really process what Tyler's saying. "You're--" he stumbles, not wanting to--

"I'm bi," Tyler explains. "I mean. I just-- I like people? People are great. I don't-- I've never really dated or-- but hot people are hot people." He shrugs. "Sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Jamie blinks. "It's fine," he says. "Thanks for trusting me."

"Oh man, are you a straight ally?" Tyler asks, and there's a nervous kind of smile on his face, self-deprecating and brittle around the edges. "Did I just--"

"I'm gay," Jamie interrupts, before Tyler can get any further. "I'm-- yeah."

"Okay," Tyler responds, and the smile softens into something more genuine. "Thank you for trusting me." He grins at Jamie, teeth flashing in the fluorescent lighting, and Jamie snorts out a laugh.

"Asshole," he says, flicking at Tyler's forehead, and Tyler leans back, out of Jamie's reach.

"But seriously, sorry for springing it on you like this," Tyler says. "I know that I wouldn't want someone doing it to me, and I know you're private about this, and I just--"

"It's fine," Jamie says. "I get it." He really does-- he thinks that a lot of this is because Tyler didn't want to be alone any more than Jamie does. "And besides, there are tons of hot guys in the GSA. Hot people, I guess."

"Think Amanda Kessel would let me take her to the Spring Fling dance?" Tyler asks with a wink.

Jamie laughs again, because even though he knows Tyler's joking, he's got to crush this dream before it starts. "Not unless you want to fight Hilary Knight _and_ Amanda's older brother Phil."

"…is _Phil_ single?"

* * *

Tyler starts coming to the GSA with Jamie after that, and it's almost weird, because it seems like he learns more about Tyler in the first month of GSA meetings than he has so far this year. 

They’re talking about sex, one meeting, and Jamie’s absolutely positive that he’s bright red. The whole time, he can’t talk, just listens to Amanda talk matter-of-factly about dental dams, Jason ramble on and on about one time at New York Pride where he forgot he had a bandana in his back pocket, and Tyler-- Tyler.

Tyler talks about losing his virginity on a couch at a party with the soccer team from his old school, and his face says that he enjoyed it, sure, and so does his tone of voice, but Jamie just feels off, like Tyler’s stretching out a sore muscle. Maybe it's just that the whole time he’s known Tyler, Tyler hasn’t gone out with anyone. Maybe he's been with people at parties for the NLH varsity soccer team, maybe with Jason or Shannon from the play, but he hasn’t told Jamie about anyone-- and hearing him talk about sex like it's nothing is weird.

Jamie’s pretty goddamn sure that Tyler can take care of himself, though, so he hollers along with the rest of the club when Tyler finishes his story with a dramatic flourish, telling everyone about waking up the next morning “covered in pictures of dicks.” He’s smiling while he says it, cheeks flushed red and eyes not leaving Jamie’s.

He tries not to think about it, what Tyler would look like having sex, but there’s something about Tyler’s flushed cheeks and wide grin that’s so appealing that he almost can’t help himself. He tries not to think about what else might get that color back in Tyler's cheeks, what Jamie could do-- but they're friends. _Friends._ Before anything else-- even though Jamie knows now really for sure that Tyler likes guys-- they're friends. 

But in the spring there's a dance-- it's the Spring Fling, so it's not a huge deal, not like homecoming or Prom. It's kind of a tradition for all the Juniors at NLH to go, and Julie thinks that they should all go, even the freshmen who are shorter than Jamie ever remembers being. She says that she wants to have the club go as a group-- partially as an awareness thing, you know, and they'll wear rainbow ribbons on their lapels (and knowing Julie, she's got a rainbow dress just waiting in her closet), and partially because they all kind of want to go and that whole dance thing is usually kind of awful, for people like them. Jamie's seen Queer as Folk, okay? No way is he going with just one other person. Julie's got this idea that they'll all pick names out of a hat-- except for Hilary and Amanda, who are kind of gross about each other and have had their coordinating dresses planned for months-- and go with whoever they pick-- not because people aren't dating, but because, as she says, "nobody wants to see people suck face for _hours_. This isn't a kiss-in."

Jamie doesn't want to think too hard about it, because Tyler's sitting next to him, glancing over at Jamie and trying not to smile. Jamie doesn't even let himself think about the possibility of going with Tyler-- it's all down to chance, so all he can do is put his name in and hope.

Julie's got this red beret she always wears, so half the club, Jamie included, writes their name on a slip of paper and hands it to her. She folds each slip in half and starts to pass the hat around, person to person. Jamie can't decide if the feeling in his stomach is nervousness or anticipation and just sort of settles on nausea, because there are only three people left to choose and his name hasn't been drawn yet. Tyler's name isn't in the hat, so he's going to draw a piece of paper, and Jamie's heart is in his throat when Tyler reaches into the beret.

Tyler pulls out a piece of paper and unfolds it. He smiles and it's just like that first day in French class, Tyler's eyes all scrunched up at the corners and all his teeth showing. Jamie wants that smile to be for him so much that it hurts a little bit, and he almost misses it when Tyler says "Jamie!" Amanda laughs at him and whoops. Tyler twists around to turn that smile directly on Jamie. "Dude, awesome-- this dance is going to kick ass."

Jamie feels like his face is bright red, but he manages to smile and reach his fist out to meet the one that Tyler's holding, because he can at least pretend to be kind of a bro. "Damn right it is," he says quietly. 

Tyler's laugh might seriously be the best thing on earth, and Jamie knows how gone he is on Tyler but he just can't really bring himself to care. There's no way that Tyler likes Jamie the same way that Jamie likes him-- Tyler's athletic and really smart and Jamie's-- well, Jamie plays the cello and spends the rest of his time doing homework-- sometimes he and Shea sit in the performing arts lounge and work through their music theory together, and sometimes Maripier hits him with his French textbook and tries to get him to pronounce his R's correctly. Still, he and Tyler are going to the dance together. They are.

Like a week before the dance Tyler shows up to school with a short but bright pink mohawk and Jamie's brain just sort of-- short circuits, looking at Tyler, who's kind of looking at the ground and scratching the back of his neck. Jamie is going to homecoming with this boy who-- he's. 

This _boy_.

On the other hand, Jamie might have to seriously reconsider how willing he is to talk to Tyler in public, because he's fairly sure the next thing he says is going to be completely embarrassing. "Dude, your _hair_ ," is what he comes up with, and yeah, not the smoothest, but it could totally be worse.

"I know, right?" Tyler says, and he flashes the grin that still makes Jamie weak in the knees, like some sort of fainting heroine from whatever book they're reading in Mr. Bergeron's class. "It's pretty fucking sweet. And all the hair dress code restrictions are for girls, so this is totally legal."

Jamie laughs, because of course Tyler would have checked that first, and then ignored the whole spirit of the law thing. "You know they're just going to make a new rule because of you, right?"

"And it'll be pretty fucking sweet," Tyler repeats, nodding. "It'll be fun while it lasts, though."

Sure enough, Tyler's pink hair only lasts until the next administrative meeting, when Principal Gretzky hastily changes the dress code to state that everything that goes for the girls also goes for the boys, and vice versa. There's some grumbling, and Tyler's hair gets abruptly shorter, but his smile stays the same the whole time.

He's still smiling when he and Jamie go together to rent suits. Jamie's got the one he wears for orchestra, and Tyler has one he wore to his aunt's not-a-wedding, but those suits don't match even a little bit. It feels like they're treating the dance more seriously than some of the other couples who are going (Jason and Antti are going in teal, okay? Jamie doesn't care if they were on sale-- those suits are a crime), but Jamie can't stop himself from pretending, just for a minute or two while he's watching Tyler turn around in a suit that almost fits, that this is real. That they're boyfriends, that they're going to the Spring Fling together for real, not for some GSA awareness event.

It works for a minute, and then he loses the moment when Tyler smiles back at him and he remembers: they're friends, and that's all they're likely to be.

But the thought never fully leaves his mind, not while they're picking up their matching boutonnieres, not while Tyler's driving them to school in his ancient Honda. _This could be real_ haunts every thought Jamie has, and sometimes it's all he can do not to text Tyler and call the whole thing off. He can handle having an unrequited crush, but maybe he can't handle this: having Tyler pretend to be his boyfriend, but the smile that Tyler gives him looks just the same as the ones he's gotten since they met.

* * *

The day of the dance dawns sunny and clear, for once, and Jamie grumbles his way out of bed and down the stairs. His suit is hanging up, wrapped in plastic in his room, and he's got his shoes in his closet, re-shined, and his boutonniere in the fridge, waiting for tonight. 

He passes the whole day in waiting and anticipation, ready like goddamn _Cinderella_ for the few hours when he can pretend he's someone different-- someone who Tyler could fall in love with. The other kids from the GSA meet them in the parking lot, and Amanda has rainbow ribbons for them to tie around their flowers. Amanda and Hilary are being stupidly sappy, tying the ribbon around each other's corsages, and Jamie has to look away. 

"Do you wanna go inside?" Tyler asks, his voice almost startlingly close to Jamie's shoulder. He's not looking at the girls either.

"Sure," Jamie says, and he almost holds out a hand for Tyler to take before remembering that they're pretending, that this isn't real.

It's not.

Inside the gym, the dance is hot and almost claustrophobic. Tyler sticks close behind Jamie as they make their way to the fringes of the dance floor. Jamie can't breathe with how awkward he feels, standing in his high school gym in a rented suit with the boy who he'd like to kiss more than anything. Thankfully, they're soon joined by the rest of the juniors they'd meant to meet at the dance-- Amanda and Hilary are attached at the lip, and Jason and Antti look like they're attempting interpretive dance. Tomas is there, too-- and so are most of the kids in the orchestra and almost all of Tyler's soccer team. Sid's there, too, with his younger sister, Taylor-- it takes him a minute to recognize her all dressed up. 

The music's too loud, vibrating through Jamie's chest and shaking out through his fingertips, like he's standing inside of a double bass. It gets easier to lose himself in the music the longer he's at the dance, until he's swaying in place as the rest of his friends start jumping in time beside him. They do all those ridiculous dances with the steps as part of the songs, and Jamie dances to those, but he doesn't feel comfortable in his own skin sometimes, even when he's not making a fool of himself on the dance floor. 

It's like that for the next hour or so-- Jamie's shirt is sticking to his back and he'd wanted to dump his jacket on one of the chairs, but the boutonniere is still pinned to it, and he doesn't want to lose that. He and Tyler stand by the side of the floor whenever there's a slow song, looking out at the mass of kids slow-dancing instead of at each other. 

About halfway through the dance, there's a fast song that Jamie's heard on the radio-- something raunchy and almost too sexual that Tyler lights up at before diving onto the floor without a backwards glance. Jamie watches him dance with everyone else in the GSA who's on the floor instead of being wallflowers, watches him grind his hip against Hilary's and get swatted by Amanda for it, but both Tyler and Hilary are grinning at her when she does it. Jamie tugs at the collar of his shirt and unbuttons the front of his jacket, trying to cool down a little. As much as he'd love to dance with Tyler, this song definitely isn't the one to brave the dance floor on.

The next song is slower, and Tyler makes his way back over to Jamie after getting his hair ruffled by Jason.

"Hey," Tyler says, flopping down on a chair next to Jamie and slinging his arm across the back of Jamie's chair. Jamie can feel Tyler's hand, even through his jacket and shirt, and it's too hot and too cold at the same time. "We should. Uh. You know. Dance? At least once?"

"Sure," Jamie responds, trying not to sound too eager. "Next song?"

"Sure," Tyler echoes. "If, you know, it doesn't tell us to do it like they do on the Discovery Channel."

Jamie laughs, because that song had been old when his brother started high school, but somehow it ends up played at every dance NLH has. They sit and watch for a little, and Tyler takes deep gulps out of a water bottle that he'd stashed under the chair. But throughout the whole song, Tyler sits just a little too close to Jamie-- knuckles against Jamie's knee cap, shoulder pressed to Jamie's. It's almost like torture; Jamie would call if that if he thought that Tyler was doing it to mess with him instead of just being physical the way that Tyler always is.

The next song starts, and it's-- it's definitely not the pants song, it's that song that Jamie's sister likes, the one about barley and moonlight and kissing, all folky guitar and a woman's voice. Jamie glances over at Tyler at sees that Tyler's face is red, that he's looking at his toes and not at Jamie. "We could wait until the next song," Jamie offers.

Tyler's lips twist up. "Nah," he says. "Let's do this one."

The song's too slow to jump around to and too fast to really slow dance, but Tyler winds his hands around Jamie's waist and Jamie mirrors him, hands resting just above Tyler's hips. For the first thirty seconds it feels like they're at a middle school dance with too much room between them, but then Tyler exhales and cracks a smile. "Leaving room for Jesus?" he asks, and Jamie laughs. 

"You know it," he says, tugging Tyler in a little tighter against him. Tyler relaxes into him, sliding his hands around to the small of Jamie's back. His face turns into the hollow underneath Jamie's chin. 

Tyler says something that Jamie can't quite hear. "What'd you say?"

"This is nice," Tyler repeats, a little louder.

 _Kiss me_ , the woman sings, _beneath the milky twilight_ , and Jamie has never wanted to kiss anyone as much as he does Tyler in this moment, on this dance floor. Their eyes meet and Jamie holds his breath, afraid to break the moment into one more disappointment. 

But Tyler's eyes flicker down to Jamie's mouth and he licks his lips, just a quick peek of his tongue, but Jamie--

It's sappy and gross and too romantic, almost, but Tyler leans in and Jamie parts his lips and just like that-- just like that. They're on a dance floor in the middle of hundreds of other people, but it's almost like they're the only ones there. Tyler's mouth is warm against Jamie's, and his hands tighten on Jamie's back, and it feels _right_. They feel right. 

Everything feels right, even when they break the kiss. Tyler's cheeks are bright red and Jamie gasps when he's able to breathe again; Tyler's fingers spasm in the back of Jamie's suit jacket before he lets go. Tyler's eyes squeeze shut for a minute and he bites his lower lip. Jamie watches it all happen like he's asleep, because he can't believe that he and Tyler-- that _they_ \-- kissed, and it was perfect.

He must be dreaming.

"Can we talk?" Tyler asks. "Somewhere else-- outside?" Jamie nods and tries to return Tyler's shaky smile, but he's sure he's not at all successful. Jamie just hopes that this isn't one of those dreams that turns into a nightmare halfway through. 

Jamie follows Tyler across the dance floor that's still littered with couples looking deep into each other's eyes. He doesn't want to take back the kiss, but he will, if it means keeping Tyler. Anything's worth that. 

It's April but it's cold outside; they walk over to the railing by the track and lean against it, moving together without speaking.

"Hey," Tyler says, reaching for Jamie's hand. His fingers slide across Jamie's palm, and Jamie feels himself shiver.

"Hi," he makes himself say back, because he's still half-convinced that the kiss was a dream, and he's sure that Tyler brought him out here to give him the "we're just friends" talk.

"So, that was--" Tyler says, at the same time that Jamie's saying "Did you--"

Tyler laughs, but it's soft, kind of gentle. "You first," he offers.

“I don’t get why you keep choosing me,” Jamie says. It's not what he started to say the first time, but it's what comes out. 

Tyler looks down and takes a deep breath before speaking. "I mean. I think you're the first person _I_ chose, instead of-- I dunno, someone from soccer or from a class or-- I just. I wanted this year to be better. I wanted to be better. But then I looked at you in that goddamn French class and it was like: yeah, him. And you're-- Jamie, you've gotta know that you're amazing, okay? I don't know what I'd be like if we weren't friends." Tyler doesn't look up the whole time he's talking. 

"Oh," Jamie says, shocked by Tyler's speech. He twists his hand around so that his fingers are laced through Tyler's, and squeezes. "You mean it wasn't-- I wasn't-- what if I want more?"

Tyler breathes out and it's shaky, kind of watery. "I've had a crush the size of your goddamn cello on you for the last six months, okay?" he says, finally, _finally_ looking over at Jamie. "I thought you didn't-- you could do a lot better than me, you know?"

"I don't want better. I just want you," Jamie responds.

"God, I'm glad you're dumb," Tyler says, and they both crack up. It breaks the tension, and Jamie decides that he can be ridiculous and sappy just for tonight. He brings Tyler's hand up to his lips and kisses Tyler's knuckles. 

"So dumb," Jamie agrees. "But I'm okay with that."

* * *

After the Spring Fling, Tyler's supposed to be spending the night at Jamie's and it's-- it's going to be different from how they'd first planned it, that's for sure. Jamie's pretty sure that the XBox he's got set up in his bedroom isn't going to get a lot of use. Tyler's still holding his hand when they get to Jamie's house; he drops it before they get to Jamie's door, though, and tucks his hands into his pockets. Jamie opens the door and there are his parents, in the living room, like some ridiculous painting out of the 1950's. He's just glad that his mom's on her phone playing Candy Crush instead of, like, knitting. Or something. 

"Hey, boys," his mom says. 

"Hi," Jamie says, Tyler echoing him a beat later.

"Did you have a nice night?" his dad asks. 

"Yeah," Jamie says, fairly sure his face is bright red. "It was great."

His mom smiles at them. "Well, don't let us keep you. Have a nice night."

Jamie looks over at his dad, who's smiling, just like his mom. "Goodnight," Jamie says, grabbing for Tyler's hand and pulling them both upstairs.

Upstairs, with Jamie's door closed behind them, Tyler lets out a short whoop of nervous laughter. "I thought they were going to, like, interrogate us, or something," he says, looking up at Jamie's ceiling, which is still covered in glow-in-the-dark stars left over from eighth grade. Jamie's suddenly embarrassed of them, because they're such a childish thing, but Tyler gets up on his bed and reaches up to touch one of the constellations that Jamie remembers putting up there with Jordie. "Dude, do these still light up?"

"Yeah," Jamie says, leaning back against his closed door. "Um. I should probably take them down, you know--"

"Nah, they're awesome," Tyler says, his eyes still on the ceiling. "You should leave them up. I don't know how I've never noticed them before." He traces his fingers over Ursa Major, bouncing on his toes a little, and Jamie's struck dumb, looking at the place where Tyler's shirt is coming untucked from his pants and his jacket's riding up. Jamie can see a sliver of Tyler's skin there, and he wants to touch Tyler so much his hands ache (and Tyler's still wearing shoes, that asshole; Jamie doesn't even care about the shoe prints that Tyler's leaving on his comforter). 

He almost says something, almost takes a step towards the bed, but Tyler looks down at Jamie and his whole face softens. "Hey," he says. "Are we--"

"Yeah," Jamie says. "Yeah, we are, if you--"

"Of course I--" Tyler says, and they're talking over each other. 

Jamie feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I think we're okay," he says, and he reaches up to tug his tie loose, trying to just keep this casual. Friendly. He can't look at Tyler while he does this, though, so he looks down at his shoes instead.

There's a soft thump from Jamie's bed, so he looks up, and Tyler's just collapsed down on it, like all his strings have been cut. "Um," Tyler says. "Can I-- can you come here?" There's something in his voice that Jamie can't quite place, but Jamie knows by now that he can't really deny Tyler anything. He lets go of his tie, knot half-loosened, and walks across the room to sit on his bed with Tyler (toeing off his shoes first, because he's not a heathen). Jamie's stomach seriously feels like it's full of butterflies; he'd thought that was just an expression, but no, he can seriously feel them fluttering around inside.

"Hi," Jamie says, and he reaches out for Tyler's hand. Tyler immediately tangles his fingers in with Jamie's, and it should be weird that that's all it take to settle him, but there's something about Tyler that just makes Jamie feel good. "Are we-- do you--"

Tyler smiles at him, and it's not the broad grin he gets when he's just scored a goal or even the one he wears when he gets offstage, but something smaller, more private. "I think that maybe we could-- I mean, if you wanted to-- we could just sleep?"

"I-- of course, yeah," Jamie says, and if his face wasn't red before, it definitely is now. "I'm-- did you bring something to sleep in?"

"Of course I did, dork." Tyler grins and drops his chin. He looks over at Jamie out of the corner of his eye and bites his lip. "I really like you," he says. "It's kind of embarrassing how much."

Jamie squeezes Tyler's hand, because he still kind of feels like he's imagined everything since getting to the dance. "Me too," he says. His mouth is kind of dry, so he licks his lips to try to make it better, and suddenly Tyler's mouth is on his again, and it's just like being at the dance again, only-- only they're in Jamie's room, all alone, and there's no music playing. Jamie has a minute where he realizes that their first kiss wasn't somewhere like this, somewhere where it's just _them_ \-- that they'd been surrounded by, like, the entire junior class. But here, alone in Jamie's bedroom, all he can hear are the sounds of his heart pounding a million times a second and Tyler breathing through his nose. He closes his eyes and leans into Tyler, even though the angle's kind of awkward, because this still feels like a dream. 

If it were a dream, though, his left foot probably wouldn't start cramping up uncomfortably-- it's been a long night, and he'd been on his feet for most of it. He pulls back from Tyler and winces. "Sorry," he says. "I just-- I want to keep kissing you, but I think I was standing up for way too long, and--" He shrugs helplessly. "Maybe-- can we get more comfortable?"

Tyler cracks up, and even though it's totally a cliche, it makes his whole face light up. "Such a gentleman, Mr. Benn," he says, and he starts tugging at his own tie. "Dude, come on, get naked." Jamie can see Tyler freeze, just for a second, hands stilling on the silk of his tie. "Or, you know. Whatever you're comfortable with." He's not looking at Jamie right now, and Jamie can't help but wonder what he's done wrong, why Tyler isn't--

But Tyler looks up at him, rolls his shoulders. Tyler's still got a grin plastered across his face, but it looks a little more brittle now, and Jamie doesn't really know what to do right now, but if nothing else, Tyler is his friend. He reaches over and folds his fingers around Tyler's hand, still frozen on his tie. "Hey," he says. "Same goes for you." He's flying blind here, and this is precisely the fourth time he's ever done this, made out with someone, but he thinks that maybe he's saying the right thing.

Saying that makes Tyler's shoulders relax, and his smile gets a little more genuine. "You are just--" He drops the tie and cups Jamie's face in his hands before pulling him in for a kiss. "How did I luck into you?" he murmurs, voice soft and full of wonder, and Jamie leans back in for another kiss, and then another, and before he really thinks about it, he's got Tyler pressed back into the sheets of his bed. 

Tyler is all long limbs and that ridiculous hairstyle and right now there is more of him pressed against Jamie than there's been before. Jamie can't help but feel awkward around him-- Jamie's always been too short and too stocky, and he's never really outgrown his old nickname, even though no one calls him that any more. And Tyler-- Tyler's leaning up into him, mouth open and eyes closed. His hands are at Jamie's waist, fingers sliding up under his jacket, his shirt, and Jamie gasps when Tyler's hands touch his skin for the first time. 

Tyler's fingers tighten against his back; Jamie presses down against him and Tyler's back arches, their hips meeting. Jamie thinks he's about to die from how hot this is and how fast his heart's going, feels it beating rabbit-fast in his chest. He kisses Tyler instead of thinking about it, breathing into the kiss until he calms down a little. Tyler is just a lot, and Jamie had honestly never thought that he'd be here, kissing Tyler and getting kissed back. He rolls off Tyler a little, pulling Tyler with him so that they're both lying on their sides. It's less rushed, maybe, lying next to each other, but it's still intense, and Jamie's still wearing his fucking rental suit.

He laughs a little, tucking his head into the curve of Tyler's neck. "Maybe we should get a little more naked," he admits. 

Tyler laughs back at him. "I will if you will," he offers.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours?"

The corners of Tyler's eyes crinkle up when he laughs; it's one of Jamie's favorite things about him. "Wouldn't be the worst idea."

They both sit up enough to shuck off their jackets and unbutton their shirts. It feels a little awkward to be doing this himself instead of having Tyler do it, maybe, but Jamie appreciates the chance to breathe in something that's not as heady as Tyler is, for a second. 

And Tyler, next to him, is breathing slow, his shirt folded over his hands and eyes on his knees. He tugs one of his hands out from his shirt and takes Jamie's hand, fingers sliding together, holding hands like they had at the dance. It's a moment of stillness in a night that's been all about motion. 

"I don't want to fuck this up," Tyler says. "But I wanna-- there are things we should probably talk about, first."

"Okay?" Jamie responds, not quite sure where Tyler's going with this.

Tyler breathes out and squeezes Jamie's hand. "I'm not-- I'm not, like, super fucked up about this or anything but--"

He pauses long enough that Jamie starts thinking again, and he can't-- "Did something happen?" he asks.

"Not like-- not like that," Tyler says. "I just-- it's kind of hard to explain."

Jamie's about to die of curiosity and worry but he can't think of anything helpful to say, so he brings their linked hands up to his lips and kisses the back of Tyler's knuckles, just like he had at the dance. Tyler's shoulders slump down and he leans his forehead against Jamie's shoulder. 

"You have to promise me that--" Tyler pauses, and his face is tucked into Jamie, so Jamie can't see it at all. 

"Promise you…?" Jamie prompts.

"If we-- if we go too fast, or whatever, god. I mean." He exhales slowly into Jamie's shirt. "Look, I--" He stops again, and Jamie doesn't really know what to do, so he just runs his thumb across Tyler's knuckles right where he'd kissed them. Tyler lets him do it for a minute before sitting back up and shaking his hand loose. 

"I probably should have told you before, but I can get kind of--" he waves a hand-- "slutty, I guess. And I've never-- I don't say no a lot. Didn't." Jamie suddenly has a flash of the tattered sign in Tyler's locker that just says _Say No More_ , and he's never asked about it, but maybe he should have. Maybe Tyler's been waiting for him to ask. Tyler's shoulders are drawn up and tense again, like he's expecting Jamie to do something _bad_ , and Jamie wonders, for a minute, about Tyler's friends at his old school.

"So is there anything--" Jamie starts, but Tyler cuts him off.

"Not with you," Tylers says firmly. "And it's been different since I got here, _I've_ been different since I got here, but if we're going to do this-- if we're going to be _us_ \-- I just. I need to know that you'll say no." His face looks fragile, but his chin is set and he's actually looking Jamie in the eyes now instead of hiding his face. 

"Yeah," Jamie says. "Yes, I promise."

Jamie can see the tension that had built up again in Tyler's shoulders lessen, all of a sudden, and he leans in against Jamie. He lets the shirt in his hand drop to the floor, and Jamie follows suit as quickly as he can, and then they're both sitting there in undershirts and dress slacks. Everything feels too tender right now, like it's fragile and bruised at the same time, and it's Jamie's turn to breathe in deep and walk over to his dresser to grab a pair of plaid flannel PJ pants. He doesn't wear them every night, and he'd thought that tonight he'd be in boxers on his bed with Tyler on the air mattress on the floor, but tonight's the night for turning things upside down. "I don't--" he starts, but Tyler interrupts him.

"I'm going to go brush my teeth," Tyler announces, brandishing his toothbrush. He's got his PJs in his other hand, and he wanders off in the direction of the upstairs bathroom. Jamie strips out of the remnants of his rented suit and kind of freaks out for a minute-- usually, he just sleeps in boxers, but what if Tyler-- like, they've slept on each other's floors before, and it's usually no big deal, but what if-- 

Jamie realizes he's standing in front of his dresser and freaking out over goddamn pajamas and decides to just do what he always does, and not worry about it too much. Try, anyway.

He's in bed with his teeth brushed by the time Tyler gets back, carrying his clothes with him and wearing boxers and his undershirt. Tyler hovers for a minute, because the air mattress is still set up on the floor, and maybe Jamie should have-- but Tyler sits down on the edge of the bed instead, and Jamie breathes out and pulls the covers back until they get stuck under Tyler.

"That anxious to get me in bed, eh?" Tyler asks, cracking a smile.

"Shut up and get in," Jamie retorts, smiling back at him.

Tyler gets up to turn off the lights before he gets back in bed, and the room is dark except for the faint luminescence of the stars on the ceiling. He slips under Jamie's blankets and rolls onto his side, facing Jamie. Jamie can just barely see the line of Tyler's cheek, the way that his eyelashes are half-lowered. He reaches out for Tyler, hand skimming down Tyler's side to land at his hip, where he thumbs at the elastic of Tyler's boxers for a minute before realizing what he's doing. Jamie feels his face heat up and he knows that he's blushing bright red; he's momentarily thankful for the dark. 

"This is good," Tyler says, and his voice is sleepier than Jamie thought it would be, given how wired he still feels.

"Yeah?" Jamie asks.

"Yeah," Tyler responds, and he leans over, kisses Jamie wet and warm. It's nice, and it's a coming-home kiss more than anything else; it feels like they've been kissing for months, for years, even. Jamie kisses back, opening his mouth to Tyler's. 

It's slow, and it's soft, and maybe Jamie's more tired than he thought he was, because as soon as he closes his eyes into one of Tyler's kisses, his hands feel heavy, and he feels like everything's at half-speed. Tyler's moving slower, too, one knee tucked between Jamie's and one hand cupped around Jamie's jaw. 

They fall asleep between one kiss and the next, under Jamie's glow-in-the-dark stars.

* * *

(Tyler's seventeen and he's waking up warm, tucked in next to Jamie Benn on his too-small twin bed. Jamie's hand is wandering up and down Tyler's spine, lazy and slow, and he's looking at Tyler with this smile on his face that's exactly the same as it was the first day, when Tyler asked to borrow a pen. He'd had half a dozen in his backpack, of course, but Jamie had been-- still is-- perfect.

I think I love you, he almost says, but he keeps it in his mouth for now, tasting the words, running them over his tongue, his teeth. He kisses Jamie's stupid smiling face instead, not caring that Jamie's mouth is sour with morning breath, because the words he's saving make everything sweet. 

He settles back into Jamie's pillows and smiles at Jamie's face in a patch of sunlight that's coming through his window, at Jamie's hilarious bedhead, and Tyler lets his eyes drift closed again, warm and safe.)

 

**Chapter II: Pretending He’s Beside Me**

Jamie feels a little ridiculous.

Surprising Tyler seemed like a good idea when it occurred to him at 2 a.m. this morning, but now that he’s sitting here on Tyler’s aunt’s stoop waiting for Tyler to get back from soccer camp, Jamie’s pretty sure Tyler’s going to laugh at him. It’ll probably be more like giggling-- which is Jamie’s favorite Tyler laugh, sure, but-- yeah. Totally gonna laugh at him.

Maybe he should go home. He can text Tyler when he’s sure he’ll be back. It's been months since they've seen each other, after all, and Jamie should probably be wearing something other than the stained Interlochen t-shirt he grabbed off his floor when he'd woken up, especially now that he's been sitting in the summer humidity for over an hour, waiting for Tyler. He knows that Tyler's aunt would have let him wait inside if he'd knocked on the door. She's super nice, but he would have felt awkward asking, since he hasn't really seen her all summer, either.

He climbs to his feet and is halfway down the stairs when Tyler’s beat up Honda pulls into the driveway. Jamie doesn’t even make it to the bottom step before Tyler is racing over and almost knocking him down with the force of his hug. The car door is still swinging open behind Tyler, but Jamie finds himself not caring even a little bit.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here!” Tyler’s grin is blinding as he pulls back from the hug and stares at Jamie. “How long have you been back?”

“Just since last night,” Jamie responds in a daze, hands settling on Tyler’s hips. So, good idea, then, even with the stained shirt. “Surprised?”

Tyler smacks Jamie’s shoulder, still grinning. “Obviously,” he says with delight. “Best surprise ever. Also, holy _shit_ , you got tall.”

Jamie feels his cheeks heat up, pleased and a little embarrassed. He’d thought Tyler might be happy-- well, he did before he’d thought Tyler would laugh at him-- but Tyler is obviously, ridiculously thrilled to see Jamie, thrilled that Jamie thought to surprise him. “You’d have done it if you were back first,” Jamie points out.

“Nope,” Tyler says with a laugh, “there’s one person in this relationship who has the monopoly on romantic gestures, and it’s not me.” He lets his hands trail down to tangle with Jamie’s and takes a breath. “Help me unload the car?” he asks, starting back towards the driveway. Jamie is pulled along, caught by Tyler’s hands and smile. “The sooner it’s all in the house, the sooner we can--” Tyler’s mouth twitches briefly into a smirk “-- _hang out_.”

“Absolutely.”

He grabs Tyler's duffle bag and the guitar that Tyler always promises he's going to learn how to play; Tyler takes his backpack and the bag that's full of his soccer stuff before hip-checking the car door closed. Jamie follows him into the house and down the long hallway to his room.

They haven't been alone together since June, and now it's the last week of August, all hot stickiness and sweat in Tyler's bedroom. Jamie had gotten used to the crisp lake air and mosquitoes of Michigan, which are less awful than upstate New York's mugginess, and he's almost gasping for breath even before Tyler takes his face in his hands and presses kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his forehead. 

"Oh my god, I missed you," Tyler breathes. 

"Me too," Jamie says, before leaning in to kiss Tyler again. 

"Missed you, missed _this_ , missed every-fucking- _thing_ about being here." Tyler's voice is passionate, heated; when they break apart, Jamie wonders just for a moment if there's something that made Tyler miss him this much.

"Tell me you don't have anything you need to do today," Jamie says, and Tyler groans. 

"I promised Aunt Cathy I'd be here for dinner, and I really need to do laundry and unpack." Tyler bites gently at the place where Jamie's neck and his shoulder meet. "But I can spare a few hours just for you." He slides his hands up under Jamie's shirt, and _oh_ , Jamie's glad to see it on Tyler's bedroom floor instead of his own.

It's like they're rediscovering each other, there on Tyler's bed. Tyler's hands on his skin feel brand new, somehow warmer than he's used to. Tyler's skin is tanned from what Jamie is sure were hours of shirtless soccer at camp; he wants to lick Tyler all over. And everywhere, everywhere, is Tyler's mouth, his hands, his presence.

The summer morning rolls on and the heat builds outside as the sun slanting through Tyler's curtains moves around the room. Tyler is panting into Jamie's shoulder by the time they're still again, one of Jamie's legs is tossed over Tyler's thigh and both of them too warm.

"Love you," Tyler murmurs into Jamie's skin, and it's the first time either of them have said it out loud. Jamie'd written it half a dozen times over the summer, and so had Tyler, but it sounds better out loud than it does to read it.

"Love you, too," Jamie says, sighing contentedly.

It's a good way to finish summer.

* * *

Jamie stays until later that night, after Tyler's aunt has finished feeding them dinner and made him tell her all about soccer camp. Jamie helps Tyler's aunt load the dishwasher, then finds Tyler in his room, unpacking his suitcase. 

"Milkshakes?" Jamie asks, because he knows that if he goes back into Tyler's room, they're never going to do anything but make out. Which is great, it's amazing, but he's gone almost two months without seeing his boyfriend, and the letters didn't always come super fast. 

"Sure," Tyler responds, toeing on the muddy tennis shoes he keeps by the door. "Lead the way."

The ice cream place they both like the most is close enough to walk, as long as they don't mind cutting through the elementary school field. Tyler runs across the field, arms outstretched, shouting with joy at the end-of-summer dusk. It's warm enough that they don't have to worry about racing home without jackets, but cool enough that they don't sweat the whole walk.

Jamie gets his usual mint chip shake; Tyler gets chocolate. They walk back more slowly, listing toward the playground when they cross the elementary school again. Jamie follows Tyler onto one of the play structures, sits on the stair above him. They drink their shakes in silence, and it's comfortable. Jamie's missed a lot of things about Tyler, but one of the things he'd missed the most was the way that Tyler just let him be. There's some noise from the cars, and there's a kids' soccer game finishing on one end of the field, but other than that it's just quiet.

After a few minutes, though, Jamie notices that Tyler's watching the kids playing soccer and letting his ice cream melt.

"You okay?" he asks. He puts his milkshake down and leans forward, wraps his arms around Tyler's waist.

“I don’t love it.”

Tyler’s voice is soft, only audible to Jamie because of how close they’re sitting. Jamie perches his chin on Tyler’s shoulder and tightens his arms around Tyler’s waist. 

"Soccer?" Jamie asks, because he's not sure what else Tyler could be talking about.

Tyler nods. “I don’t love it. Not the way Gabe does. Not the way you love playing the cello.” Tyler traces an aimless pattern on Jamie’s leg, barely noticeable through Jamie’s jeans. “That’s what I figured out at camp. Soccer all day, every day-- it's fun for the summer, but…” He trails off, shaking his head just the slightest bit.

Jamie waits for Tyler to say more, but after Tyler’s been silent for more than a minute, Jamie speaks. “It’s not who you are?” he asks tentatively.

“I don’t think so,” Tyler replies, a thread of sadness in his voice. “And I’m not sure what is.”

“What about acting?” Jamie offers. When Tyler had been in _Into the Woods_ last year, he'd been happy all the time, even during Hell Week, when everyone but Tyler and his co-prince Jason had been running around like headless chickens. Tyler had seemed to thrive on it, though, throwing himself into last-minute rehearsals and helping the set crew with the final construction pieces. 

“Maybe? I dunno." Tyler gusts out a breath. "It's like-- I'm supposed to have this figured out _now_? Like, dude, I'm _seventeen_ \-- I can't even decide what to eat in the mornings unless Aunt Cathy cooks. And I'm supposed to decide the rest of my life?" He laughs, but there's more bitterness in it than Jamie likes. "You've got everything figured out, Sid has everything figured out, Gabe has everything figured out, and I'm just-- I'm just glad that applications aren't due for a few more months."

It's only ever been the cello for Jamie, really, and he's glad that he doesn't have to think about college as much as Tyler is now. That doesn't mean he hasn't been working on audition pieces all summer, it just means-- his fall and winter are going to be full of traveling to auditions and writing essays, not figuring out what he wants to do in the first place. "I love you," he says, because even though he knows it's not really useful in this situation, it just feels good to say it out loud.

Tyler rests his head back against on Jamie's shoulder instead of replying right away. His shake's almost entirely melted. "I -- I think acting's closer than soccer, anyway,” he says with something that sounds more like humor in his voice, before sitting up a little straighter in Jamie’s arms. “Professional actor, huh? That might be cool.” 

"We could do a one-man show. Two-man show," Jamie says, trying to lighten the conversation a little more, and it works. Tyler's face cracks into a smile, and he giggles, almost spilling melted milkshakes on himself. He leans against Jamie for another few minutes, watching the kids pack up the soccer balls, the net, before tapping Jamie's leg.

"Come on," he says. "Let's go home."

* * *

Jamie wakes up on the first day of school to Tyler's _I love you_ text, which he gets three minutes before his alarm starts blaring. It's a much nicer way to start the day, and he smiles and sends the same text back before switching off his alarm.

It's the first day of his senior year and he's trying not to stress himself out too much, even though he's taking an insane number of APs. This year he's got Tyler-- they're amazing, they're _solid_ , and they're going to fucking kick ass. Jamie might not be first violin (that's TJ, and Jamie is honestly glad that he's never going to have to deal with the kind of pressure that comes with being concert master; he also likes the cello way more than he'd like violin), and Tyler isn't Sid and he doesn't want to be, Jamie's pretty sure-- Sid's been doing TV work since he was, like, two, and Tyler just started acting last year, but they're pretty happy with who they are. 

Jamie's actually managed to do some laundry, so he's got a clean t-shirt and jeans to wear the first day, and he finds his NLH orchestra sweatshirt and pulls it over his head before thumping down the stairs. 

His mom's in the kitchen, drinking coffee and doing the crossword. Jamie grabs a Pop Tart out of the pantry and sticks it in the toaster while he steals a cup of coffee and dumps a bunch of sugar in it. He burns his tongue on the coffee and on the Pop Tart once it's hot, but he makes it out the door with a few minutes to spare. 

It's kind of amazing that he's made it to school before the first bell, and so he spends most of homeroom waiting for the other shoe to drop, but everything goes _awesomely_ \-- he's first chair cello, the rest of his section actually pays attention, and somehow the strings as a whole make it through their first rehearsal without anyone's peg popping out or anyone dropping their instrument (which has happened way more often than Jamie wants to think about; he strokes his cello's neck at the thought and winces). 

He doesn't see Tyler until the second passing period, when he's on his way to French and Tyler's on his way _from_ French. They only have a minute, but Jamie's going to take that minute and make the best of it, goddamnit, so he presses Tyler back against his locker and kisses him square on. Tyler laughs and pushes him off. "We're going to be late," he says, eyes crinkled up at the corners, and he kisses Jamie again before sprinting off to class right as the first bell rings.

At lunch they sit together outside the band room, just like they had last year. There are new faces, and they're missing a few-- Hayley and James aren't there any more, but James's younger brother Trevor is; there's a new Staal kid (Jesus, does that make _four_ of them?), as well as Sid's younger sister, Taylor. He's known Taylor since she was in diapers, and it's kind of weird to see her here, an NLH freshman. She waves at him, less awkward than Sid is, but no one is as awkward as Sid is, at least offstage. She's sitting with a bunch of other freshmen, though, so Jamie just waves back and lets her be. 

"How're your classes so far?" Tyler asks, digging into his sandwich. Jamie's got pasta salad and curly fries from the cafeteria, and has been trying to figure out how to grab a bit of Tyler's brownie without Tyler noticing.

"AP Chem is going to kick my ass," Jamie responds, "but I think Mr. Sharp is more easygoing than Mrs. Sharp, so at least there's that?"

"Dude, I told you about the time that Mrs. Sharp made us all dissect squid, right?" Tyler says, loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Jamie rolls his eyes. He's heard the story half a dozen times, but now that Tyler's got an audience, he's going to tell it again. Jamie doesn't really mind all that much-- he breaks off a corner of Tyler's brownie and pops it in his mouth while Tyler describes in lurid detail how to take apart a squid and use part of its body as a quill pen. "It's the sickest thing," he says, and the freshmen all look wide-eyed. "Just wait until bio, okay? Mrs. Sharp is a hardass, but you will learn your shit."

Taylor rolls her eyes a little, but the rest of the freshmen nod solemnly. 

Tyler turns back to Jamie. "Don't think I didn't see you stealing my brownie," he says, mock-scolding. 

"Who, me?" Jamie says, all innocence.

"I'll have to think of _some_ way for you to make it up to me," Tyler says. He's grinning, though, and happy the way only a day full of potential can make him. It's the first day of school, and they’re going to conquer this year.

"I'm sure you'll think of something." Jamie kisses Tyler's temple and runs his fingers through his hair.

He might steal another bite of brownie while Tyler's eyes are closed.

Maybe.

* * *

Mr. Gonchar (Jamie should really call him _Gonch_ or _Coach_ , the way everyone else does, but Jamie's not great at being informal with his teachers-- he's always calling Mr. B. _Mr. Bergeron_ ) peers at Jamie once he's settled into the disturbingly comfortable chair in front of the desk. “I’m curious, Jamie. Why these colleges?” He gestures at the questionnaire Jamie filled out earlier in the week.

Jamie fidgets a little, fingers tugging slightly on the seam of his jeans. “They’ve all got really amazing music programs.”

Mr. Gonchar nods. “You want to be a musician?” he asks, actually sounding simply curious.

“I love playing the cello.” Jamie feels the back of his neck heat up, because he feels like he's bragging, only applying to music schools, but-- “I’m really good at it.”

"You are," Mr. Gonchar says, smiling slightly. "That solo you had at the Spring Concert last year..." He shakes his head. "Very impressive."

Jamie blinks. "Really?"

"Absolutely." Mr. Gonchar leans forward on his desk, and folds his hands together. "But I worry. You have no safety schools."

Jamie shifts uncomfortably. He’s gone round and round about exactly that, but-- “I don’t want to go anywhere else,” he finally says, shrugging. “It’s has to be one of those three.”

Mr. Gonchar sighs, but nods good naturedly. “Maybe think about what you’ll do if you don’t get in?” he says mildly. “Doesn’t have to be another college, but you don’t want to get to March and have no idea what you’re doing next.”

“I’ll try, sir,” Jamie offers. 

“That’s all I ask for.” He drops his hands to the desk decisively, making Jamie jump a little. “Now, get on to class,” he says, offering Jamie a hall pass. “And send in the next student, will you?”

Jamie takes the pass before pushing himself out of the chair and through the office door. “All yours,” he says distractedly to no one in particular in the outer office, which is half-full of seniors clutching college brochures and notebooks, just like Jamie had been. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time.

“Hey, you,” he hears from a few feet away.

His head shoots up.

Oh.

Tyler's sitting on one of the uncomfortable couches in the guidance office's waiting area, a stack of brochures on his lap that's taller than anyone else's, which is saying something. “Hey you,” Jamie says with a helpless grin, dropping down on the couch next to Tyler, one hand reaching out for Tyler’s. “I didn’t know you were after me.”

Tyler’s hand meets Jamie’s between them, and he bites his lip before he grins back at Jamie. “I didn’t know you were before me.” He uses their joined hands to tug Jamie somehow even closer. “Good surprise, yeah?” he says quietly.

Jamie nods. “Good surprise.” He pulls Tyler in for a quick kiss. "Now it's your turn to be pestered about safety schools."

“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler says with a laugh. “See you at lunch?”

“Yeah, of course.” Jamie stands up when Tyler does and nudges him towards the door to Mr. Gonchar's office before he heads to Lit.

* * *

The school year gets into full swing faster than it ever has-- Jamie has orchestra during zero period and first, so he's got aching fingers by French, but at least he's got Maripier in the mornings to check over his French homework before he turns it in. 

He and Tyler compare schedules and make the best of their passing periods, morning break, and lunch, which are literally the only times their schedules overlap. NLH requires certain classes for students who are in the theater department and completely different ones for musicians, so while Jamie's arguing with chord progressions in AP music theory, Tyler's shepherding confused freshmen through their first Drama classes. They have weekends (when Jamie doesn't have youth orchestra) and evenings (when Tyler doesn't have soccer games and neither of them have lessons). It's not perfect, sure, but it's enough, they're satisfied.

Jamie manages to clear an afternoon so that he can make it to Tyler's first home game of the year. It's Tyler's second year on the varsity soccer team, and while this isn’t the first time Jamie’s come to one of Tyler’s games-- he came to most of them last year, even though they weren’t dating yet-- it’s different, somehow, being here as Tyler’s boyfriend. One of the girls from the winds section (he can remember that she plays oboe and is dating Willie from his calculus class, but he doesn't remember her name's Megan until someone else calls her that-- he's _got_ to get better at telling people apart) nabs him the minute he sets foot on the stands and drags him over to sit with the rest of the girlfriends and boyfriends right behind the team’s bench. And it’s-- nice. Normal.

He listens to Julie relate Gabe’s latest attempts to sleep his way through the visual arts department-- apparently Matt Duchene is proving harder to seduce than anticipated, and Gabe’s been pouting. Julie's just happy that her boyfriend's failing at seduction, for once, because he's usually much more successful than she is and he's adorable when he's pouting. 

“Skinny! Come sit with us!” Marc calls out. 

Jamie looks up to see Taylor Crosby and the new alto sax player-- Skinny, apparently-- climbing up the stands, trying to find somewhere to sit. It’s almost time for the start of the game, so there isn’t much space left, but Skinny and Taylor still hesitate when they reach Marc.

“Is it really okay if we sit with you guys? Neither of us is dating a player,” Skinny says uncomfortably, fidgeting a little.

Julie laughs lightly. “You’ve only been here a few weeks, give it time.” Megan elbows her, causing Julie to jump before glaring back at Megan. “What was that for?”

“Stop messing with their heads, Julie.” She smiles at the two freshmen. “You don’t have to date a player to sit with us. Promise.”

“Besides,” Marc says, “Eric told me to look out for you, and if you sit with us it makes my job way easier.”

“And Sid would never forgive me if I let anything happen to his sister,” Jamie puts in, nodding at Taylor with a smile. Sid’s ridiculously protective of Taylor-- has been as long as Jamie’s known him, even when they were five and Taylor was two-- so Jamie isn’t even lying.

“So you see, you have to sit with us,” Julie says firmly, smirking. “You have to save us from the wrath of Sidney Crosby and Eric Staal.” She pauses for a second, smirk falling away; the whole group stills, picturing it. Julie shudders.

Taylor rolls her eyes and shrugs at Skinny. “I’m in if you are.”

“Okay,” Skinny says. Jamie and Marc shift apart and the two freshmen squeeze between them. Jamie gives Taylor a brief sideways hug once she’s settled next to him, and then reaches past her to offer his hand to Skinny.

“Hi, I’m Jamie.” 

Skinny stares at his hand for a moment, and Jamie starts to withdraw it because maybe Skinny has some weird thing about touching, or thinks that Jamie's being rude, but then Skinny reaches out to shake it. “I’m Jeff,” he offers. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Jamie’s brow furrows.

Taylor giggles. “Tyler talks about you all the time in drama.”

“He’s sort of--” Jeff shrugs slightly. “Taken us under his wing?”

“He says we’re his freshmen,” Taylor says wryly. “Sometimes he calls us his ducklings.”

Jamie laughs. Of course Tyler is mentoring _these_ freshmen. Naturally.

“He’s really been very nice,” Jeff offers earnestly. “NLH is really confusing-- I keep forgetting how to get to math class.”

“And he’s an awesome scene partner,” Taylor adds. “I always feel like he’s making me better. Usually that only happens with my brother.”

Jamie’s always known Tyler is amazing (he’s pretty much thought so since he lent him that pen last year), but this is a side of him Jamie doesn’t really get to see most of the time. Jamie is sort of helplessly charmed by the whole thing. “Don’t tell Sid that,” Jamie whispers loudly to Taylor, grinning. “He’ll think he has competition.”

Taylor gives him a look. “Duh,” she says, nudging Jamie’s shoulder. “You say that like I haven’t known him my entire life.”

Jamie’s about to respond, but then the crowd starts cheering, and Julie pulls him to his feet. 

“Come on, lover boy,” she says, eyes bright. “Time to watch our boys win.”

* * *

The diner that the soccer team piles into after wins isn't the nicest in town, but it does serve baskets of fries and gives free refills on soda, so it's where they always end up. Tyler's got his arm low-slung around Jamie's hips as he pushes the glass door open. He's kind of sweaty and gross, but Jamie finds himself not minding that in the least, and really, those thoughts aren't diner-appropriate. Or anywhere-but-a-bedroom-appropriate. 

But he follows Tyler into one of the big booths at the end of a row-- the half-circular ones that they always try to take over. Tyler's on one side of him and Julie's on the other, so he's really squished in there, as neither of them has any sense of personal space.

The waitress comes and, thankfully, doesn't seem too overwhelmed by the size of the group. She brings a tray full of waters when she comes to take their order, and grabs a few full pitchers before putting their orders in. By the time she comes back with everyone's sodas (and Julie's OJ), the pitchers are empty, because even though it's now been almost an hour since the game ended, all of the soccer players are drinking water like they're in the middle of a desert. Jamie spares a moment to feel sorry for their waitress for having to deal with this ridiculous group of boys and checks to make sure he has enough cash to tip her well. On the other hand, this shouldn't exactly be new to the diner-- sure, it's the first home win of the season, but this has been a soccer team tradition for years, according to Willie. 

About five minutes after they've gotten their sodas, Gabe stands up and clinks his fork against his cup. Since it's made of plastic, it doesn't work as well as he probably wants it to, but it works well enough. "Hey, everyone!" he half-shouts, managing to get the attention of the teenagers clustered around him. "VICTORY!!"

The team roars back, causing the only other patrons of the diner, a white couple in their sixties to glare at them. Gabe waves at them sheepishly. "But seriously-- we had a great first home game, so let's keep this up all season!"

"Honestly, if we play this way all season we'll kick ass and I'll just sleep all the time," Tyler says in an undertone to Jamie. 

"You're already asleep half the time we hang out," Jamie points out. "Not that I mind, but you have to do homework and make out with me _sometimes_."

Tyler grins at him. "Tonight, definitely. I'll just, you know, take a nap before dinner."

Jamie steals a fry off Tyler's plate. It's even odds as to whether or not Tyler actually will be awake enough for making out, but it'll be worth it to have the time together even if Tyler sleeps through half of it.

Tyler swats Jamie's hand away, narrows his eyes, and steals one of Jamie's sweet potato fries in retaliation; a few hours later, Tyler's napping on Jamie's knee with his US history homework squished under his shoulder. Jamie should really get up and spend at least a little time with his keyboard and his music theory homework-- but Tyler's hair is soft under his hands and his body warm against Jamie's. 

His homework can wait until tomorrow.

* * * 

Jamie looks up from his twelfth calculus problem of the night to see Tyler-- as usual, flopped on Jamie’s bed-- frowning at a piece of paper, and mouthing something.

“Everything okay?”

Tyler sighs, dropping the paper to the bed. “I’m never going to get this monologue right.”

Jamie frowns. Tyler’s been worrying about his Othello audition since basically the beginning of the school year-- and that was when he thought he was auditioning for Cassio. (Sid was always going to be Iago. Always.) Now that Hilary’s convinced Mr. Lemieux to have two different casts-- so she can be Iago, too-- Tyler’s decided to go out for Desdemona. Of course, he's also picked a whole different monologue from the one he'd originally memorized. “Do you still need to memorize it?”

Tyler shakes his head. “Nah, I practically memorized all of Romeo and Juliet in freshman year. It’s not remembering the words that’s the problem. It’s--” He shrugs. “Everything else. Doing it right.”

“Tell me again what it’s about.”

Tyler looks like he’s barely holding back an eye roll. “She wants it to be night time so that Romeo will show up and they can have sex.” He bites his lip. “Okay, that’s not fair. It’s about yearning. About longing to see someone so much that you can hardly stand to wait.” Tyler ducks his head, staring at Jamie’s comforter. “It’s how I felt this summer,” he says quietly.

Jamie feels the blush rising in his cheeks, embarrassment warring with happiness. Sometimes Tyler just says these things, and Jamie can’t quite believe he’s real. Jamie’s not really the kind of boy people like Tyler usually _long_ for. 

But this isn’t about Jamie, not right now. This is about helping Tyler.

“Well, then maybe--” Jamie falters, embarrassment increasing in the face of what he’s trying to say. He takes a deep breath. Tries again. “Maybe you should pretend I’m Romeo.”

Tyler’s whole _everything_ changes-- his eyes shoot up to meet Jamie’s, brighter than they’ve been the entire evening. He sits up, and there’s an energy in his body, a readiness that Jamie associates with seeing him on a stage. “I can do that,” he says with a small smile. “I can definitely do that.” He closes his eyes for a moment, and when they open, he looks-- younger some how. Sweeter, even more than he already is. He gets up and goes over to the window, looking out at the stars. “Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, towards Phoebus’ lodging: such a wagoner as Phaeton would whip you to the west, and bring in cloudy night immediately.”

As Tyler continues, Jamie just stares, mesmerized by the way Tyler disappears into Juliet, pining for her Romeo. “Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night--”

And then he turns, looking at Jamie, and Jamie inhales sharply, suddenly remembering how to breathe. 

“Come, gentle night,” one step towards Jamie, “come, loving, black-brow’d night,” another, “give me my Romeo.” Tyler’s close enough to touch, now, and he lifts a hand to Jamie’s face, tracing his brow. “And, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars--” Tyler lets his fingers trail down Jamie’s cheekbone and over Jamie’s lips, and Jamie’s breath catches in his throat. “--and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun.” 

He pauses, cupping Jamie’s cheek and guiding him to his feet with only that touch. Tyler steps back towards the bed, and Jamie steps with him-- one, two, three, their own private waltz. He draws Jamie closer, until their bodies are inches away from each other. And still, Jamie’s cheek is the only place they touch. “O, I have bought the mansion of a love,” Tyler murmurs, “but not possess’d it,” a breath, together, “and, though I am sold, not yet enjoy’d.” Tyler tilts his head the smallest bit, bringing his other hand up to just graze Jamie’s other cheek. “So tedious is this day--” Tyler’s voice hitches, as if he’s as desperate as Juliet is for her Romeo, as Jamie is for him right now, and Jamie can’t help it-- he surges forward, hands coming up to mirror Tyler’s as their lips meet between them. 

Tyler makes a muffled noise of surprise and loses his balance, falling backwards to sprawl on the bed. He laughs with delight. “O Romeo, Romeo,” he says, holding out his hands to Jamie. “You kiss by the book.”

Jamie gently takes Tyler’s hands. He doesn’t always remember his English classes very well, but-- “Palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss,” he offers hesitantly. Tyler’s smile grows even brighter, and he slowly pulls Jamie onto the bed until Jamie is hovering above him, inches away once more.

Eyes sparkling, Tyler tugs Jamie down firmly on top of him. “Sin from thy lips?” he says breathlessly, tangling his hands in Jamie’s hair and pulling him even closer, until it seems impossible that their lips aren’t touching. “Give me my sin again,” he murmurs.

Jamie takes a breath.

And does.

* * *

_c u after school?_

_can’t :( mtng w/ mr. b abt extra credit_

_k. <3 u_

_< 3 u 2_

* * *  
[note slipped into Jamie’s locker]

_Hi babe,_

_Came by before hr to say hi,  
but must have just missed you.   
Hope your calculus test went okay--  
Willie said it was crazy hard.   
See you at the meeting later._

_Love you,  
Ty_

* * *

_“Hi.”_

_“Hi.”_

_“Listen, my voice lesson isn’t until 4:30-- do you want to grab milkshakes?”_

_“...I can only be there for like 20 minutes, but yes. Absolutely.”_

_“Great! See you in 10?”_

_“Yeah. Love you.”_

_“Love you too.”_

* * *

Jamie's first application isn't due until December; he's had his list of colleges whittled down to three since the end of his sophomore year and even though there's been some slight shuffling of the order, nothing's really changed. He's thought about safety schools, but really-- he can't quite bear the idea of _not_ getting in to one of those three schools.

Tyler, though, is completely _freaked out_ about college. 

It's the beginning of October and they're halfway through the first quarter; rehearsals for Othello have just started and the fall concert is just around the corner. Jamie and Maripier run through the music for the cello section on Mondays-- she's going to take over the cello section when Jamie graduates, and she's hugely talented, but it might be better if she can run the cello section through something other than terror and threats. One afternoon a week, Jamie sits in the back of the auditorium with his calc homework and watches Tyler emote on stage. Tyler's Desdemona is just starting to take shape, but Jamie can see her fragility and her strength in the way Tyler holds his hands, the way he pitches his voice-- not unnaturally high, but there's a certain delicacy in it that Tyler's voice usually lacks. 

On Saturday evenings after dinner they camp out at Jamie's kitchen table and do homework, work on college essays, and try not to stress each other out too much.

The second Saturday of the month Tyler drops his head down into his French textbook and sighs. "Why the fuck am I applying to college?" he asks plaintively.

"I--" Jamie says, then pauses. He doesn't really have a super compelling reason, because Tyler likes school fine, likes acting well enough, but he doesn't have a passion the same way that Jamie does, at least not yet. "You can get better jobs?" he offers, but it's a weak reason, and he knows it.

Tyler makes a frustrated noise. "I just-- there are things I want to do, but I don't--" It's a repeat of the conversation they'd had two months ago, and this time Jamie reaches over and rubs at the back of Tyler's neck for a long moment.

"Where are you thinking about applying?" Jamie asks.

"I'm-- I don't. I have a few places in mind, but I don't--" Tyler sits up straight, shrugging off Jamie's hand. "We're in this for good, right?"

"Of course," Jamie says, mouth suddenly dry. Has Tyler decided he wants to go somewhere _really_ far away? Tyler must know where Jamie wants to apply-- he's sure he's mentioned it to Tyler at least once-- what if he wants to go to California? Or Canada? Or, like, _London_? London has great theater programs, it must-- Jamie doesn't know everything about theater, but he's known Sid long enough to know that the West End is a thing, at least.

"And choosing where we want to go to college isn't going to change that?" Tyler's voice is uncertain, and Jamie wants to reach for him again but isn't sure that would be welcome.

"It won't," Jamie confirms, because he's not sure that anything Tyler could do would change how Jamie feels about him.

"Okay," Tyler says, and he pauses for a second. "I don't think we should tell each other where we're applying."

Jamie's more than a little shocked by that, because after the summer, there's no way that he wants to be apart from Tyler for the entirety of college. That's _four years_ of nothing but summers and breaks and maybe the occasional long weekend. It's not enough, but maybe-- maybe if Tyler ends up acting in New York or Los Angeles and Jamie's in Ohio-- maybe it'll be good for them. And Jamie doesn't want Tyler to have to follow decisions that Jamie made when he was sixteen, even though he's talked with Mr. Ruff and Ms. Lemieux and everyone who he knows in the orchestra. Maybe Tyler doesn't want to follow Jamie to Boston or New York-- god knows there's nothing in Ohio that Tyler'd be interested in-- maybe Tyler's right. He doesn't want to keep Tyler from applying to a school he really wants to go to just because Jamie's not planning to end up anywhere near there. 

"I just mean-- I don't want you to make decisions about your future based on something I can't even start to figure out," Tyler says. "I don't want you to give up on--"

"I think you're right," Jamie interrupts. "I mean, we're going to end up together at the end of it, so-- I mean, if you end up--"

"Yeah," Tyler says. "Yeah, we're going to be okay." Tyler squeezes his eyes shut for a minute. "Ugh, okay. Have you figured out the _passé simple_ yet?"

"Oh! Yeah, it's actually pretty easy when you get the trick," Jamie says, leaning over Tyler's textbook. He doesn't forget that they'd been talking about colleges, but French verb tenses-- thankfully, ones that Jamie'd learned last month-- are enough to make him worry less.

They're good. They're going to be fine.

* * *

Jamie's trying to focus on his French homework but Tyler and PK are on stage and it's really distracting. 

Tyler flutters his hands and PK says something too loud; Tyler shrinks back and he looks smaller than Jamie ever sees him. Even with headphones in, Tyler's body language catches his eye every thirty seconds; he just wants to give Tyler a goddamn hug because Tyler's way too damn good at playing Desdemona. PK fake-pushes Tyler down onto the stage, and Jamie can't watch any more, so he turns his music up and tabs over to his personal statement for Oberlin. It's being way too difficult to keep this to the 250-word maximum that Oberlin allows-- he'd talk it over with Tyler, but this essay is way too specific to Oberlin to leave Tyler any wonder about where he's applying. Tyler's really good at getting to the heart of whatever's Jamie's trying to write; he's been having Tyler look over his work for English since last year.

There's silence from the front of the auditorium and usually Jamie can hear something during rehearsal. When he looks up and pulls his headphones out, Tyler's lying on the floor and PK's standing over him; Mr. Lemieux is talking to both of them. It helps, it reminds Jamie that this is a play and not real life. He knows that PK's a good friend of Tyler's, but Tyler's a _really good actor_ and it's hard to watch. 

He slips his headphones back in and keeps his head down until rehearsal's done. He's able to get some of his equilibrium back by the time all the lights come back up while Mr. Lemieux gives his final notes.

Tyler looks exhausted when he walks up the aisle to where Jamie's sitting. "Hey," he says, dropping down into the seat next to Jamie. "PK and I were going to go get some junk food and cuddle it out."

Jamie almost chuckles, but Tyler still looks fragile. "Getting your old marrieds on?" he asks instead, and gets the tiniest smile out of Tyler in return. 

"You're the best," Tyler says, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Jamie's temple. "I'll swing by after dinner? If you don't think you're going to be too busy?"

"Well, someone kept me distracted from finishing my French, but I'm almost done with everything else," Jamie replies.

"Me, too," Tyler says. "Ugh, I wish I wasn't so _tired_." He's got his grouchy face on, and Jamie pulls Tyler against his side with an arm around his shoulders. It's uncomfortable with the arm of the chair in between them, but he's wanted to give Tyler a hug for the last hour, at least. Tyler sighs. "Have I thanked you for dealing with me recently?"

"I'm happy to do it," Jamie says. "You're not a burden, I promise."

"I know, I just-- ugh. This whole play is kind of throwing me off, you know?" Tyler's not looking at him while he talks. "I'm going to be a mess until it's done, I think."

Jamie kisses the top of Tyler's head. "You're going to be okay," he promises. "I love you."

"Love you, too." They sit there for a minute before Tyler moves to sit all the way back up. "If I don't leave now, PK's going to bring Carey with us, and I don't think I can do that much old marrieds," he says. 

"Fine, abandon me to _Les Justes_ ," Jamie jokes.

"Dude, at least you don't have to deal with the fucking passé simple," Tyler shoots back. 

Lying in bed at home that night, Jamie misses Tyler in a way that he hasn't since July, when he'd been in Michigan and Tyler'd been in Ithaca. Something in his chest aches, and he considers texting Tyler, but then he thinks: this is what it's going to be like next year, too. They're going to be miles away, maybe an _ocean_ away, and he'd better start getting used to it now. 

He clicks the sleep button on the side of his phone, puts it by the side of his bed, and turns out the light. It's a while before he goes to sleep.

* * *

“O banish me, my lord, but kill me not!”

Tyler’s voice rings out in the dark theater as he tries to sit up, struggling against PK’s grip. They're lit by a single spotlight, the rest of the stage dark and still. Out in the audience, Jamie feels the plastic around the flowers he brought for Tyler crumple. He’s watched PK and Tyler practice this scene at least half a dozen times, but this time he can't turn his music up or look down at his homework. It’s never felt this real to him before, never made him feel like someone is holding his heart in their hands and squeezing it tighter and tighter with every plea Tyler makes, every futile attempt to push PK away.

“It is too late.” PK’s murmur echoes in the charged silence of the auditorium. He grabs Tyler’s hand where it’s pressing against his chest with one of his own, and covers Tyler’s mouth with the other. For a moment no one moves-- no one breathes-- then Tyler and Claude’s voices break the silence. 

And Jamie can breathe again.

He keeps breathing as Tyler-- as Desdemona-- dies, as Claude’s Emilia defends her mistress and turns on her husband, as PK’s Othello stabs himself and dies in turn. And then finally the play is over, and it’s all Jamie can do to wait patiently for Tyler outside the stage door.

By the time Tyler appears, his face is clear of stage makeup so Jamie can see the shadows under his eyes. "Hi," he says, mashing his face against Jamie's shoulder. "You came. I love you."

"Of course I came," Jamie says. "No way I would miss this."

"Can we go?" Tyler asks. "I've already had cuddle time, and I just want to have a milkshake and then sleep forever. And then, you know, get up tomorrow and do this all again." He's smiling by the end of it, but it's smaller than it usually is and it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Yeah, of course," Jamie says. "Let's go."

Tyler almost falls asleep in his chocolate shake twice before Jamie can convince him to take it to go. Jamie drives them back to his house and shakes his head at his mom, who glances significantly at the clock. But all she says is, "Don't stay up too late," and she lets Jamie shepherd Tyler up the stairs. 

Jamie parks Tyler in the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed; he's pretty sure that Tyler won't actually fall asleep standing up tonight. Tyler appears in his doorway with a dazed expression and lets Jamie put him in one of Jamie's orchestra t-shirts. 

By the time he's tucked himself in next to Tyler, his front to Tyler's back, Tyler's eyes are closed and his breathing is even. Jamie thinks he's asleep until Tyler wiggles enough to take Jamie's hand in his. "I love acting," Tyler says. "But I don't-- I'm exhausted." Jamie presses a kiss to the back of Tyler's head and squeezes his hand. "I talked with Gonch about theater schools and I don't think I could take that kind of intensity. This-- doing Desdemona-- even though it's what I wanted, I don't think I can do something like this again."

"Spring musical might be more fun," Jamie offers.

Tyler snorts. "Mr. Lemieux told us this week that we're doing _Les Mis_ , so unless dying in French is more fun than dying in English, I don't think it will be."

Jamie hugs Tyler a little tighter. "Are you going to be okay to finish the run?" he asks.

Tyler sighs. "I think so. And I think I have to be, because it's not like we have real understudies for this show."

"Don't run yourself ragged, okay?"

"I won't." They lie there in silence for another few minutes, and Jamie thinks that maybe Tyler's actually asleep this time before he speaks again. "I'll try not to, anyway."

"I'm here for you, if you need me," Jamie says, because somehow in between orchestra and homework and sleep, he can always find time for Tyler. "I love you."

"Love you too," Tyler murmurs, the end of the sentence trailing off into incomprehensible murmurs. 

It takes Jamie longer to fall asleep. Tyler is warm in his arms and the play's over for the night, but Jamie can't shake what it felt like to watch Tyler up on that stage, even when he knew exactly what was coming, even though he knows PK and Sid and everyone else in the show-- he can't shake the last remnants of the anger he'd felt on Tyler's behalf. He can't imagine what it's like for Tyler. Sure, he knows music, he knows what it's like to be transported by a piece, but what Tyler does, the way he loses himself in the characters he plays-- secretly, Jamie's a little glad that Tyler's reconsidering acting. He tucks his face into the space between Tyler's head and his shoulder, and tries to fall asleep.

* * *

And five performances later, _Othello_ is over. 

But school marches on; the end of the first quarter passes and with them comes a barrage of midterms that barely leaves either of them room to breathe, much less see each other. Thanksgiving break sneaks up on them-- they'd been intending on spending as much of it as possible together before Tyler found out that his parents wanted him in Boston for the holiday. Jamie doesn't begrudge them the chance to see Tyler (they barely see him, as it is), but he wants Tyler here with him, wrapped in a blanket on Jamie's parents' couch, not three hundred miles away. 

Jamie's glad they've found this time together, even though he'd much rather have Tyler here instead of over a grainy Skype connection.

“There was a whole _thing_ over dinner about Candace and a boy in her class-- Mom’s freaking out that she might be dating, and Candace is throwing a hissy fit about Mom being controlling, and there I am rolling my eyes with Cassidy and Dad. I mean, honestly, I was kind of a hot mess back in Boston-- Candace has to be easier than that.” Tyler smiles at Jamie, his tired grin that Jamie’s gotten used to during the whole Othello process. Tyler swore before he left for Boston that he’d sleep as much as humanly possible while he was home, and Jamie’s sure he has been, but still. “But anyway, how’s your break going?”

Jamie smiles a little. “Jordie and Jenny are back for a couple days, so that’s pretty awesome. We made popovers for Mom and Dad this morning.”

“They let you near an oven?”

Jamie fights the urge to throw a pillow at Tyler-- all it would do is knock his laptop over, anyway. “Glass houses, Ty,” he says, glaring at him. He can’t hold the expression for long, though, not when Tyler’s smiling at him like he doesn’t want to look away for even a moment. Jamie knows the feeling.

It’s quiet for a few moments, and Jamie can’t help enjoying the chance to just… be with Tyler, even if it's over Skype. They haven’t really gotten to do that while Tyler’s been awake in a while; hopefully, once they get back to school they'll have a little bit more time. Well, maybe once applications are in and auditions are over. And the spring musical, which is over in May-- so yeah, it's months away, but they'll have time in May.

“I miss you,” Tyler says softly, breaking Jamie out of his dreams of spring. “It’s nice seeing my family and all, but--” He looks away, and Jamie feels the distance between them sharply. He wants to touch Tyler so badly his hands ache.

“I miss you, too,” Jamie responds. He’s not always great with words-- that’s Tyler’s thing-- but this he can do. "I can't wait for it to be next week.” Jamie ducks his head, blush creeping up his cheeks. “I just-- I want time for _us_ , not for us and the rest of the cast or the rest of the orchestra or your aunt or my parents or-- I miss being with you. I miss kissing you when there's no one else around.”

Jamie’s favorite Tyler smile breaks out on Tyler’s face, the one he gets when he’s pleased and surprised all at once, the one Jamie tries to make appear as often as he can. "I'd kiss you through the screen if I could-- how are you always so sweet?” Tyler asks, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Jordie always gave me half of his candy when we were growing up?” Jamie offers with a shrug; he tries to keep a straight face and he just can't do it-- he starts giggling and can't stop, which sets Tyler off, too. His cheeks are red, because it's not like Jordie's stopped giving him candy (or, you know, beer) every time he sees Jamie, it's just that they don't see each other as often now.

“Well, I’ll have to thank him, I guess. Tell him to keep up the good work."

“I’ll let him know,” Jamie says drily, and sighs, looking at the clock. “Ugh, how is it already so late? We should probably get to sleep,” he adds reluctantly.

Tyler scrunches up his nose and sighs. “I guess you’re right,” he says. "I mean, I'd rather just, you know, stay on the line and watch you sleep like a creeper, but I guess we'll be able to do that once I get back from Boston." Jamie laughs, and Tyler puts on his best creeper-face before dropping it. His whole face is tired, but Jamie's glad to see that the last of Desdemona's shadows have left his features. “I love you,” Tyler says.

“I love you, too.” 

They count down from three and press the end call button. Jamie closes his laptop and stares up at his glow-in-the-dark stars as they fade.

* * *

Things don't slow down after Thanksgiving; if anything, they get more intense. Jamie's first audition is the second week of December, and he knows his pieces backwards and forwards (literally), but another twenty hours of practice can't hurt, right? He's careful with his hands, with his wrists, because he's heard horror stories about carpal tunnel and blistered fingers and that can't be him.

Tyler's first round of auditions for _Les Miserables_ are happening almost on top of Jamie's Berklee audition and Tyler's soccer championships; Jamie's fairly sure that Tyler just doesn't sleep anywhere but the bus on the way to and from games and Jamie's car on their way to school. Tyler has permanent dark circles under his eyes that Jamie does his best not to copy, but he practices until his fingers are exhausted and stays up too late worrying about Tyler. 

But the soccer team has the last championship games the same weekend that Jamie goes to Boston for his audition; he wants to be there for Tyler and he wants Tyler to be there with him in Boston (even though it would mean Tyler would know where he's applying), but they talk over the phone at night, Tyler's voice hoarse with victory and Jamie's dry with nerves. 

The next day he waits in a hallway with a group of kids his age, surrounded by worried parents and instrument cases. His mom is there and they sit quietly, breathing deep in sync. Jamie tries not to fidget, but he can't stop himself from running the fingering over and over again, left fingers on his right wrist. He walks into his audition shaking and comes out calmer, more relaxed. He's played, and he didn't miss a note. His first audition is done and he can come home.

That night, back in Jamie's bedroom, he kisses Tyler with an edge of desperation, because the audition was his first step away from Tyler, and he can't-- he _won't_ \-- lose this. 

Tyler goes in for the first round of his own auditions at school the next week, and he sings to Jamie over the phone every night-- ‘Heart Full of Love’ and ‘Red and Black’ until Jamie knows all the words. Jamie waits with Tyler before he walks into the theater, lets Tyler kiss him and then paces until Tyler comes back out, flushed red and grinning. He's got callbacks in a week.

Jamie’s supposed to be helping Taylor and Tyler with their songs for callbacks-- the first round of auditions for _Les Miserables_ were pretty much a breeze for both of them, but now that Mr. Lemieux has narrowed most of the roles down to two or three candidates each, the whole thing has gotten way more serious. And Jamie _has_ been helping-- both Tyler and Taylor can pick out a melody on keyboard if they have to, but it’s easier for them to practice with someone accompanying them. Sid plays for them when he can (he’s basically a shoe-in for Valjean, but he’s still practicing for his own callback anyway), but the rest of the time Jamie usually ends up doing it. Piano's not his instrument, but he can sight-read well enough and he needs the practice for music theory, anyway.

So yeah, he’s helping. And most of the time it’s actual helping, not making out with Tyler while they're waiting for Taylor, but this is not one of those times.

"Okay," Tyler finally says, pulling away from Jamie. "Kissing you is awesome, but it's not actually going to help me beat out Brandon for Marius."

Jamie makes a face, moving to kiss Tyler one more time before he sits back. “I guess that’s okay,” he says, heaving a sigh. “So, ‘Empty Chairs’ or one of the scenes?” 

“Eh, better make it ‘Empty Chairs’-- Taylor and I can practice the scene we have to do once she gets here.” Tyler clambers off the bed and Jamie follows him off, before sitting at his keyboard and shuffling through his sheet music until he finds the right song. Tyler stands at the foot of the bed and bounces on his toes for a second before settling and nodding to Jamie. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Jamie gives him his note and waits. 

“ _There’s a grief that can’t be spoken_ \--” Tyler's voice is smooth, but it breaks in all the right places for the song. He's not _quite_ there, not yet, but Jamie can feel the emotions he's trying to put in the song, can see how it's going to completely fuck him up once Tyler's performing it on stage.

They manage to get through ‘Empty Chairs’ two and a half times before Taylor gets there. She waits in the doorway of Tyler’s room while he finishes it. “You’re totally gonna get the part,” she says when he’s done, smiling brightly.

A blush rises in Tyler’s cheeks. It’s ridiculously adorable-- Jamie’s still so, so charmed, even after more than a year of watching Tyler. Tyler mock-scowls at Taylor. “Don’t jinx it,” he warns.

Taylor rolls her eyes. “You’re almost as bad as Sid,” she says, and has to dodge quickly when Tyler nabs a pillow off the bed and hurls it at her. Jamie snorts.

“No one is as bad as Sid, Taylor.” Jamie has a lot of experience with Sid’s superstitions-- they’ve sort of orbited each other for a long time at music camps and auditions, in class and out, and Sid’s superstitions aren’t _new_. At this point, everyone just sort of expects them, and in the way of theater, they've become everyone's superstitions. But Jamie's very sure about this: nobody is as bad as Sid.

Taylor tilts her head. “True. Good thing I like peanut butter.” She sits next to Tyler on the bed, leaning against his shoulder. "So, tell me how rehearsals have been going," she says, wiggling her eyebrows. Tyler laughs and pushes her off.

"I'd tell you, but then I don't think you'd want to sit on the bed," he jokes, and she shrieks and pushes him back. 

Eventually, they do start practicing. 

* * * 

Callbacks themselves seem to go pretty well, but that doesn't stop Tyler from stressing all over Jamie until the cast list goes up. Tyler's fine while he's walking up to the list posted outside Mr. Lemieux's door, but his feet stop moving before they're actually close enough to read it. “I can’t look,” Tyler says, grabbing Jamie’s arm to hide his face in Jamie’s shoulder. “You tell me.”

Jamie smiles fondly at the top of Tyler’s head. Everyone aside from Tyler is certain he got Marius, but Tyler’s worked himself up about it so much in the last few days that it’s not surprising that he doesn’t even want to look at the cast list, and that's something that Jamie can totally do for him.

Jamie finds what he’s looking for five roles down, and starts to grin. He nudges Tyler. “Ty, Tyler-- look.” He nods towards the paper taped to the wall.

Tyler hesitantly peers at the list, brow furrowed. He breathes out heavily, closes his eyes, and smashes his face against Jamie's shoulder. "I fucking _got it_ , Jamie!" he crows. 

"I knew you would." Jamie's smiling wide enough that his cheeks hurt, because Tyler did it, he's going to be Marius and _not_ spend the next twelve weeks dying on stage.

"I kept talking myself out of it," Tyler admits. "Like, I know I'm good, but I didn't-- I'm just glad that Brandon got in, too." They're not the only ones clustered around the cast list; Sid's there, and so's Claude, and Brandon and Brendan and-- and there's Taylor, grinning and hugging her brother. Jamie reads her name listed across from _Cosette_ and holds his hand up for a high-five when she runs over to them. She tackle-hugs them instead, and he staggers under her weight combined with Tyler's.

"Thank you so much for practicing with us!" she says. "I really appreciated it."

"Of course," Jamie says. She lets them go and runs back to Sid, who slings an arm around her shoulder. It's almost weird to see Sid being casually physical with someone; he's so closed-off most of the time that Jamie honestly can't remember the last time he's seen Sid touch someone in public. But it's Taylor, so it's not really weird at all.

Tyler's still breathing slow against Jamie's shoulder. "Thanks," he says, echoing Taylor. "I don't think I could spend another play dying every night. At least I knew that Sid was always going to be Valjean, because, like, in no way do I have the range for that or--" he pulls back from Jamie's shoulder and shakes his hand toward Sid-- "you know, the acting part of it."

"But hey, all your friends are dead!" PK says. He sidles up to them and ruffles Tyler's hair. Tyler makes a long-suffering face and lets go of Jamie all together. 

"You're--?" Tyler lets the question dangle.

"Enjolras!" PK's laugh is bright. "Pricey's Grantaire, and we've got like half the sophomore and junior drama classes as our _amis_."

"Excellent," Tyler says. "Not that I didn't love being your wife, I just--"

"Nah, we're all good," PK says. "It's about time I got to get all lovey with Pricey on stage, anyway." 

Tyler's eyes are warm and happy when he looks back over to Jamie, but he seems kind of nervous at the same time. "I know this means that we won't get afternoons together any more," he starts, but Jamie can't let Tyler think that him being in the play is a bad thing.

"We'll have enough time," he says. "And anyway, I can always do my homework in the auditorium, like I did during Othello."

"You're sure that won't be too distracting? I know you've got--"

"Not any more than you sneaking into orchestra rehearsals during zero period," Jamie counters, and Tyler blushes, looks down. "It's like you think I don't notice you, or something." He taps Tyler on the chin so that Tyler looks back up. "I always notice you."

Tyler sighs. "Milkshakes after the readthrough on Wednesday?" he asks. 

Jamie just _looks_ at him, because it's _December_ and Tyler wants _milkshakes_. But Tyler just shrugs, so Jamie gives in. "Fine, milkshakes," he says, and Tyler kisses him on the cheek. 

"I've gotta run to class," Tyler says, and Jamie kisses him properly before they split up and head in different directions-- Jamie to music theory and Tyler to Mr. Bergeron's comp class.

They don't really see each other again until just before the readthrough; all they have time for is a quick kiss before Tyler heads into the auditorium to sit on a stage for the next three hours and Jamie tries to wrestle his way through his homework in the performing arts lounge.

After the fourth time Jamie finds himself erasing the same calculus problem to start it over, he decides to put away the math and focus on something else. He still has at least 20 minutes before Tyler’s done with the readthrough, so he pulls out his music theory homework and tries to make some progress on the latest ridiculous (and awesome) composition assignment. 

He’s finally plugging his headphones into the keyboard to try his composition out when Ms. Lemieux’s office door opens. Ms. Lemieux makes a beeline across the lounge to the bowl of fruit and studies it briefly before grabbing two oranges. She’s turning to go back to her office when she spots Jamie and walks over to him instead. “Oh, Jamie, I’m glad you’re here-- I’ve been meaning to ask you about playing in the pit for the musical.”

Jamie is about to say sure-- after all, it might be nice to be a part of the same performance that Tyler is, and he’s probably going to be at a bunch of the rehearsals anyway-- but then he hesitates, because he's still got two auditions and his regular college apps to get done, and he's not going to be quite as busy when performances roll around, but this winter might just kill him with overwork.

“It’s not a very big time commitment-- more in the spring, of course,” Ms. Lemieux reassures Jamie when he doesn’t reply. “I know you’re preparing for the rest of your auditions right now, but I think you’d be able to handle it just fine.”

“Can I think it over?” Jamie asks, because the music itself isn't going to be a problem, but the time might be-- he should at least check with Mr. Ruff before he says yes or no. “I’m just not sure I want another thing on my plate.”

“Absolutely,” Ms. Lemieux responds. “You can let me know in a few days-- there's still some time before final parts are set.”

“Thanks, Ms. Lemieux,” Jamie says gratefully.

“Of course, Jamie.” Ms. Lemieux starts to head back towards her office, then pauses and turns back to the fruit bowl. She snatches another orange from the top of the pile before carrying her fruit haul to her office, winking at Jamie as she does. "Don't forget the diminished fifth!" she calls back. Jamie looks down at his music homework and curses.

Jamie finishes his composition and is pulling out his chemistry homework when the doors to the auditorium open and the cast streams out. Tyler walks straight over to Jamie's table and drops himself into the chair across from Jamie with a whoof. "Please make me get more sleep," he says, his forehead thunking down on the table.

"Almost fall asleep during the read-through?" Jamie asks, reaching across the table to run his fingers through Tyler's hair.

Tyler nods as well as he can, between the table and Jamie's fingers. "I'm not in, like, most of the first act. Lucky that Taylor isn't either, because she let me nap on her knee and poked me every time I needed to pretend to be awake." 

Jamie can't help but smile at Tyler, who looks enough like a cat being pet that Jamie half-expects him to be purring. "This would be a lot easier if we could just nap somewhere at school," Jamie says. 

Tyler puts his chin on his hands and pouts. "Don't remind me," he says. "I always sleep better when you're around."

"Same," Jamie says. He starts shuffling his papers together to pack up, because they've still got milkshakes to get before Tyler can go home and sleep. "Come on," he says. "milkshakes."

Tyler groans. "Can we just go back to mine and nap?" he asks plaintively.

"Finished your reading response for Mr. Bergeron already?" Jamie counters.

Tyler groans again, even louder. "Don't remind me," he says. "Mr. B's got me working on this extra credit writing project too and it's _death_."

"All the more reason for milkshakes," Jamie says. "I'll buy."

Tyler drags himself to his feet; apparently the prospect of free milkshakes, even in the winter, is enough to get him moving. "Lead on," he says, and they make their way out of the school building and into the snow.

Later that night they're sitting in Tyler's living room right next to the radiator, as they can get without touching it; Tyler's tapping idly at his laptop's keyboard and Jamie's finishing up his last calculus problem. 

"Okay, this isn't going anywhere," Tyler says, stretching out his hands. "Wanna come up and help me run lines?"

Jamie knows enough by now that when Tyler says run lines he does actually mean that he wants to run lines, but that after that, Tyler's also going to want to spend the same amount of time making out, and Jamie is so there for that. 

Tyler's aunt is out for the evening at her book group, so they have the house to themselves. Sometimes Jamie likes staying in the living room with Tyler, like the house is just theirs, but Tyler's bedroom is good, too. It has a real bed, for one thing. Even though one of them is probably going to end up asleep too soon, it's hard to pass up the opportunity. 

They end up sitting next to each other on Tyler's bed, backs against the wall with the script between the two of them. There's less singing than there really should be, because they don't have the score, just the words-- Tyler sings what he knows, and Jamie says all the lines in between. They get through the first few of Tyler's scenes before Tyler closes the script decisively and leans in.

Even with the snow outside, Tyler's more than enough to keep Jamie warm.

* * *

Jamie finds Tyler after the winter concert; Tyler's all bundled up in a parka and scarf, standing just outside the school doors. "Jesus, you must be freezing," Jamie says, wrapping an arm around Tyler's shoulders. "I hope you weren't waiting long."

Tyler shrugs. "I could have waited inside," he points out.

"Come on, let's get back to mine."

Tyler's car starts up on the first try, which is kind of impressive, given the weather. Both of them are used to snow, but this seems almost excessive. Tyler drives more slowly than he probably needs to, but there's something different about tonight's snow. Somehow it's less annoying than it usually is, the salt on the road less abrasive. The streets are mostly empty, and everything is quiet. It almost feels like they're suspended in a bubble, like the slightest move one way or the other could cause things to burst.

The lights are all off and Jamie's parents are already in bed by the time Jamie and Tyler get home, so they open the front door as quietly as they can, knocking snow off their boots and shaking out their coats before they come inside. There's already a Christmas tree up in Jamie's living room, and it's still lit up, so there are soft colors all over Tyler's face. Jamie kisses him there in the entryway, still half-wearing his coat, melting snow dripping onto the tile. Tyler kisses back, puts his cold hands on Jamie's cheeks. "I love you," Tyler says, and it doesn't break the spell at all.

"Love you, too," Jamie says quietly between kisses, pushing Tyler's coat the rest of the way off his shoulders. "We have two weeks free, we don't need--"

"We do need, come on-- you're leaving for New York in like two days, and I'm going to be in Boston after that--"

Jamie smiles. "Yeah, okay." He lets Tyler hang up their coats and line up their shoes, and they stand there for a minute in stocking feet on the carpet, looking at the Christmas tree in the dark, at the way the lights reflect off the star on top. Jamie takes Tyler's hand and pulls him upstairs, up to Jamie's room, which is warm enough from the heating that it's comfortable for Jamie to push up Tyler's henley, for Tyler to unbutton the front of Jamie's dress shirt as quickly as he can. 

They tumble together onto Jamie's bed, laughing as quietly as they can, and Jamie manages to roll them under the comforter before they get going too far. It's almost like being in a blanket fort, under the darkness of the comforter, and everything feels slower. Tyler's hands grow warm against Jamie's skin and his lips are hot against Jamie's. Everything about Tyler is hot. Jamie's slowly come to realize that Tyler honestly finds _him_ hot, too, which is-- it'd been almost inconceivable at the beginning of their junior year, but this year, Jamie's starting to find the edges of what Tyler sees in him.

The world's still quiet in the morning when they wake up. Tyler's already awake by the time Jamie blinks his eyes open, his head on Jamie's shoulder and one hand on his chest. Jamie shifts, working out his sleep-stiffness, and Tyler strokes across his skin.

"I'm going to miss you at Christmas," Tyler says. 

"Me too," Jamie responds. "I wish we could--"

"Yeah," Tyler says. "Yeah, I-- I don't want to miss you more, I just--" He sucks in a breath, lets it out slow. "Next year is gonna _suck_."

Jamie kisses the top of Tyler's head, which is the only part of Tyler that he can reach without moving much. "We'll get through it," he promises. "Like, I know it's going to be hard, but we'll know we have this, and that's better than anything."

"I know," Tyler says, voice thick. "I'm just-- I'm a different person when I'm not around you, you know? And I can fake it really well, but I'm not-- I'm not as good a person as I want you to think I am." His voice cracks, and Jamie's suddenly really worried, because Tyler hasn't been like this in a while. He scoots down in the bed a little, until he and Tyler are face-to-face.

"Hey, hey," Jamie says, soft and as gentle as he can make it. "You are a good person, Tyler. Look at what you've done with the freshmen kids, look at what you've done on the soccer team-- Mr. Lemieux wouldn't have taken you in the senior seminar if you weren't a good person, and you know that."

"I know," Tyler sighs, and there are tears tangling his eyelashes. "I _know_ that, I just-- every time I go back to Boston, I get worried because I wasn't the person I am now until I met you, and I don't want to-- I can't lose that."

"People _do_ change," Jamie admits, and he can see Tyler's face start to fall, so he hurries to speak again. "I mean, look at you-- maybe you're a different person now than you were in Boston, but it's been a year and a half since you came here, and I haven't-- I haven't ever seen a person in you I wouldn't want to know." Jamie knows that it's sappy as _hell_ and he'd catch no end of teasing if anyone but Tyler heard him talking like this, but there's a reason he saves this all for Tyler. Tyler blinks hard once, and a small tear trickles sideways down his cheek. Jamie lifts up a hand to brush it away, leaves his hand where it falls. 

"I love you," Tyler says. "I do, I swear I do, I--" He falls silent for a long minute. "I won't ever forget that."

"And when we're old and grey and in matching walkers you can remind me of that," Jamie says, stroking Tyler's cheekbone with his thumb and finally getting a laugh out of Tyler, even if it is kind of a wet laugh, still too thick with tears.

"How do you always know just what to say?" Tyler asks. 

"Clearly, I have magical powers," Jamie says, and Tyler smiles back at him. "We're going to be okay."

"Remind me if I forget?" Tyler asks.

"I can do that," Jamie says. 

* * *

It's New Year's Eve and Jamie and Tyler are sitting in the Crosbys’ living room with half of the theater department and a good sprinkling of the orchestra. The house is warm enough that even though it's snowing outside, everyone's taken off their coats and sweaters. They're sitting in piles with easy casual affection; Tyler's sitting half on top of Jamie on the couch and they're squashed between Gabe and Julie on side and Taylor on the other; it's almost hard to breathe, but hey, Jamie'll take it over freezing.

The party never really gets crazy; they play Cards Against Humanity (Sid wins, bright red the whole time, Geno-the-stage-manager egging him on), drink hot cider, and eat frozen pizzas that Sid stuck in the oven, which is the extent of Sid's cooking ability. 

The snow stops an hour before midnight and Tyler tugs Jamie to his feet, grabbing their shoes from the entryway. For all that it's below freezing, it's a clear night now that the snow's stopped, and Tyler tugs Jamie out to the back porch to stand there in the cold. 

Tyler's teeth are audibly chattering; he's wearing shoes and a coat, but neither of them is made for walking around outside at night when there's multiple feet of snow on the ground. Jamie's cold, too, but he unwinds the scarf from around his own neck and drapes it around Tyler's instead. "Th-thanks," Tyler says. "We'll go back inside in just a minute." 

"We'd better," Jamie says dryly, rubbing his hands together and sticking them under his armpits for warmth. 

"I just wanted to have this moment with you," Tyler says. "Like, next year while I'm missing you like crazy from wherever and you're having a fabulous time and also missing me from wherever-- like, here's us, standing like idiots in the snow on New Year's."

Jamie laughs, his breath sending clouds of white into the air. "Here's us," he says, and he kisses Tyler, a point of warmth in the freezing cold.

When they part, Tyler's lips are red and his eyes are closed. He breathes in deeply, which can't be comfortable in this cold, and Jamie presses another kiss to Tyler's forehead. "Inside?" Jamie asks quietly.

"Yeah," Tyler says, his voice rough. 

Back inside, the party's still going strong. Taylor's sitting with a group of freshmen in the living room, cackling about something, and Sid's in the kitchen with Geno-the-stage-manager, talking animatedly. Jamie waves at him, and Sid smiles back but doesn't try to get him to join the conversation. Jamie leads Tyler up to the landing halfway between the first and second stories, where there's a bench and a window. Jamie sits down first, and Tyler fits himself into Jamie's side. 

"I've missed you a lot," Tyler says. "This Christmas _sucked_ without you, and I can't-- I'm worried about next year. Like, if one holiday sucked that much, what's it going to be like for months?"

"We're going to be okay. This is me reminding you that we're going to be okay," Jamie responds, trying to appear more confident than he sometimes feels. But Tyler's the actor, not Jamie, and he's worried, too. "You know, we've got those dumb moments in the snow and-- I've got watching you on stage and you've got watching me in the orchestra-- I can make you a CD of me playing, we can Skype every day-- we can do this."

"Okay," Tyler says. "Okay, I'm sorry, I just-- I can't turn it off, sometimes."

"Midnight's in five!" Willie calls from the living room, and Tyler smiles at Jamie, but it's slippery on his face, not sitting quite right.

"Do you want to go be gross and romantic with everyone else?" Tyler asks.

"I'm good here," Jamie says. 

They listen to the countdown from the living room, voices growing louder the closer it gets to midnight. The countdown reaches one and they kiss; it's easy, comfortable. "Happy New Year," Tyler says.

"Happy New Year," Jamie echoes. They stay there, halfway up the stairs, until they fall asleep.

* * *

Two weeks into January, it doesn’t even feel like they had a Winter Break-- Jamie’s putting the finishing touches on the his video for Oberlin, and Tyler falls headfirst into Les Mis rehearsals. Jamie doesn’t go to all of them-- even this early in the process there are far too many for that-- but he tries to make it to at least one or two every week, otherwise they’d never see each other.

As it is, rehearsals end up being far more of Jamie seeing Tyler than the other way around. Even when they aren’t practicing scenes he’s in, Tyler is always doing something-- running blocking with Taylor and Amanda, practicing his songs with Mme. Fleury, or working on his project for Mr. Bergeron. He almost never manages to stop long enough to talk to Jamie. Still, just seeing Tyler-- onstage or not-- is worth scrunching himself into the small seats at the back of the auditorium as often as he reasonably can. Jamie keeps his head down as much as he's able to, but Tyler is magnetic on stage, so when he's rehearsing it's hard for Jamie to keep his eyes on his homework, rather than on his boyfriend.

Today they're rehearsing the beginning of act two; everyone's mostly off-book so they're actually able to use their hands to act. Tyler and Taylor are looking at each other with the first blush of love, and Jamie's seen it enough on Tyler to recognize just how good he is at acting. Tyler's singing, Taylor's singing a harmony, and Amanda's off to the side, singing counterpoint. Everything on stage is happy and sad all at once-- Tyler and Taylor look like they're actually falling in love, while Amanda looks like her heart's being crushed slowly. 

Then Tyler and Taylor are kissing, and it's a damn good kiss, from what Jamie's untrained eye can see. Tyler's hands are on Taylor's face, and if Jamie didn't know that it's faked, he'd believe that they were in love.

“Hey Jamie, does Tyler kiss you like that?” asks Gabe, who's sitting next to Jamie at the back of the auditorium. 

Jamie just smirks, because no, Tyler doesn't kiss him like that-- Tyler kisses him for real, not with hands on his face to hide the fact that their lips aren't touching. "Better," he says.

Gabe laughs quietly and sits back, and Jamie re-applies himself to his calculus. If he finishes before Tyler's done, they can go back to Tyler's house and really kiss.

* * *

As the rehearsals get longer, Jamie finds himself sitting alone at the back of the auditorium more times than not, abandoned by the other boy- and girlfriends. Gabe’s distracted by the upcoming senior sculpture show and his continued pursuit of Matt Duchene. Chaunette is furiously practicing her ballet routine in the dance studios for as many hours as she can carve out-- she and Jamie are both auditioning for Juilliard in a month, and she’s clearly feeling the stress. Ben's decided he can’t actually get any drawing done during rehearsals in the low light of the auditorium; the fact that he can't concentrate at _all_ while Jenny’s onstage singing Lovely Ladies certainly has nothing to do with it. Even Jamie is only coming to rehearsal once a week-- more, when he can, but he's so swamped with work that even making it to one is hard.

This week he’s completely focused on his Chem homework-- usually Mr. Sharp’s assignments aren’t super difficult despite it being AP Chem, but this one is, like, three times more difficult than normal-- so it’s not until he’s finishing up his last problem and putting his notebook away that he’s able to pay attention to what’s going on onstage.

They must be between scenes, because Tyler, Taylor, and Amanda are all flopped on the stage while Mr. Lemieux talks with Sid. Tyler is giggling at something (maybe something Amanda just said?), and suddenly Jamie can picture next year with startling clarity-- visiting Tyler at college, in a different city, a different state, maybe even a different country, and seeing him happy there with his new friends. Without Jamie.

And Jamie wants him to be happy, wants him to laugh like that as much as possible. He does. But Jamie’s selfish, too-- he wants to be a part of what makes Tyler happy, and he wants to be there with Tyler when he's happy. Right now, though, he feels like he's miles away from Tyler, even though they can't be more than a hundred feet apart. 

He feels like he knows what Tyler's been worried about, now-- Tyler keeps worrying, and Jamie tells him the same things again and again, and sure, he has doubts, but now he sees it. The future seems a bit less rosy, and Jamie just-- he wants to get back the future he'd been imagining five minutes ago. 

Tyler looks out into the audience; the house lights are half-dark and he looks right through Jamie. It's like Jamie isn't even _there_ , like he's a ghost in the auditorium, not really there at all. He closes his chemistry book and climbs out of the chair, walks out of the auditorium and into the performing arts lounge. He drops the book on one of the tables and sits, puts his head down on the cool wood. 

He's spent so long believing that they're going to be okay that this moment of doubt throws him hard. Jamie pushes it down, opens his chemistry book and breathes deep until he doesn't feel quite so panicked. 

Tyler finds him there after rehearsal. Taylor's with him, laughing and finishing a joke as they walk through the door. He doesn't look nearly as tired as he sometimes does; the half-circles under his eyes two or three shades lighter than they've been recently. "Hey, babe," Tyler says, leaning down to kiss Jamie on the cheek. 

"Hey," Jamie says. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah. Hey, do you mind if Taylor comes along for milkshakes?" Jamie blinks, because milkshakes have always been their thing, the thing they do as a couple, without anyone else-- but Tyler's face is too hopeful for him to say no, and it'd be rude, with Taylor standing right there. 

"Sure," he says. "Can we go to the diner instead? I've got a craving for fries." Tyler looks at him oddly for a second, but he shrugs. 

"Do you mind driving?" Tyler asks. "My back seat's full of stuff right now."

The diner's only half-full of people, so they get a booth pretty quickly. Taylor and Tyler sit on one side, Jamie on the other, and Jamie feels the loneliness press down on him again before Tyler tangles their feet together and smiles at him. 

"So, did you _see_ Claude's face when Mr. Lemieux was talking to Sid?" Taylor says, and Tyler lights up; they're off and running, talking about the play and leaving Jamie behind.

* * *

_sorry babe, i promised Jeff i’d help him with his essay this afternoon. see you tomorrow. <3_

Jamie frowns at his phone. More and more it seems like even when neither Tyler nor Jamie is supposed to have obligations, something comes up and they can’t actually spend time together. They’re barely seeing each other as it is between Tyler’s rehearsals, Jamie’s audition prep, Tyler’s super-secret English composition project for Mr. B., and Jamie’s orchestra responsibilities. And, you know, school and homework. Jamie's also told Ms. Lemieux that he will play cello in the pit, so there are rehearsals for that, as well. Jamie had been looking forward to getting milkshakes together-- something nice, something easy, something to take the bad taste of their last not-a-date out of his mouth. But not having Tyler with him doesn't mean he can't go get food on his own, right? He can work on his homework somewhere that isn’t home or school for once, eat some curly fries, and try not to think about whether or not Tyler is avoiding him on purpose.

The diner is pretty much empty when Jamie shoulders the door open-- his favorite waitress, Judy, is sitting at one of the corner booths with the newest busboy, showing him how to roll silverware in napkins, and two of the daytime cooks are chatting at the counter. Jamie gestures at Judy to sit back down when she starts to get up to take his order; he’s not actually that hungry yet, and she’s in the middle of her pile of silverware anyway. 

He tucks himself into one of the out of the way booths and dives headfirst into his latest calculus problem set. He doesn’t really surface until he hears the bell over the door and Judy greeting the customers who just walked in. He rubs at his eyes briefly before glancing over to see Judy seating Skinny, Eric, and Tanya at a booth on the other end of the diner. 

Wait.

If Skinny’s here, then where’s Tyler? Jamie checks his phone again-- maybe he missed a text from Tyler while he was immersed in his homework-- but there’s nothing new there. Jamie doesn’t want to be _that_ boyfriend, the one who always needs to know where his partner is. Tyler probably got caught up in something else once he and Skinny presumably decided not to meet up, and didn’t think about his cancelled milkshake plans with Jamie-- but it’s still weird.

Maybe he should just text Tyler.

_Hey, you still w/ jeff? I was thinking about curly fries. Want me to bring you guys some?_

He feels guilty just typing the text out. He shouldn't even be _having_ these thoughts about Tyler, and it’s a little deceptive to pretend that he doesn’t know exactly where Skinny is-- and with whom.

 _Essay’s taking longer than we thought, so we already grabbed some food. Thanks for thinking of me._ _< 3_

Jamie blinks, because Tyler just lied to him. Like, straight-out lied to him. Tyler doesn’t do that, not with Jamie. Tyler might not tell Jamie everything-- Jamie certainly doesn’t tell _Tyler_ every detail of his day, but if Jamie asks him something straight out, he doesn’t lie in response. He thought they were good. He thought that this shouldn't even be a _question_.

Maybe there's something else going on-- maybe Tyler's planning something, some sort of surprise party for Jamie, for the orchestra, maybe he's doing some _really_ early birthday shopping, but this is-- he can't ignore this, as much as he'd like to pretend that Tyler never sent the last text. He thinks about deleting it for a minute, telling Tyler the text never went through, can he _please_ just lie to Jamie instead of breaking his heart.

Jamie can practically feel Jordie lightly whacking the back of his head for being dumb, because really-- Jamie’s birthday isn’t until July, and there’s no other reason to throw Jamie a party. And besides, when would Tyler find the time?

Because Tyler's been spending all his free time with Taylor. They're comfortable around each other, and Jamie _knows_ that Tyler's more physical than he is, but there's something different in the way that Tyler is around Taylor. They-- he can't even make himself finish the thought.

Tyler says _I love you_ every time the opportunity arises, and Jamie wonders who he's trying to convince by saying that: Jamie, or himself.

* * *

For once Jamie’s not the only person in the audience during rehearsal-- Gabe and Ben are making a rare appearance, and most of the cast is watching when they aren’t on stage. Jamie isn’t getting a whole lot done, homework-wise, but he gets to sit next to Tyler for over an hour before Tyler’s first scene, so he’s calling it a win.

Tyler leans over to kiss him on the cheek before trotting off with PK and Carey for their first scene. Jamie’s pretty much resigned himself to not getting anything done at this rehearsal, so instead he watches Tyler sink into Marius, all idealistic and lovestruck. The space between him and Taylor crackles every time their eyes meet, and Jamie’s reminded all over again just how good they both are. The real performances are more than a month away, and Tyler and Taylor are already electrifyingly believable. 

Someone snorts from behind Jamie, and he glances back to see Claude watching the stage with a slight smirk. When Claude notices him looking back, he rolls his eyes. “They’re really something, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Jamie replies. “They are.” 

Claude narrows his eyes at Jamie. “You seem pretty calm for someone who has to watch his boyfriend kiss Taylor Crosby every rehearsal. They look pretty into it,” he says drily. Jamie shrugs, trying to look unaffected, but. Claude’s not wrong.

“It’s called acting, Claude,” Julie says from Jamie’s other side. “Don’t you know what that looks like?” 

Jamie laughs, but it feels a little hollow. He should be practicing for his Juilliard audition-- god knows it's only one of the _most_ important things that he'll ever do-- but he's here to see Tyler, and Tyler's not even looking at him. Not that he could, on stage, but--

But.

Jamie knows that it's unfair, because acting is Tyler's thing-- he knows that he couldn't concentrate on Tyler during an orchestra rehearsal, but he feels invisible again. 

He bites his lip and sits back in the uncomfortable folding seat. If he focuses, he can get through this, take Tyler out for milkshakes or back to his house and just _forget_ everything else that's going on for a few hours, at least.

Near the end of rehearsal, Mr. Lemieux pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks something. "Can I have everyone gather on the stage, please?" he asks.

The students sitting out in the audience-- actors, pit, and civilians-- glance at each other before gathering their things and making their way to the front of the auditorium. Jamie packs up slowly and is one of the last to join the group in front of the stage. Tyler's still standing on stage, but he's at the far side of it from Jamie. He glances over, and Jamie meets his eyes, smiling as encouragingly as he can manage.

The door to the auditorium opens, and Brandon tromps through. "Dude, it's really coming down out there," he says, knocking snow off his boots and unwrapping his scarf. There's snow stuck to his hair, even after a walk through the hall, and yeah, it must be snowing really heavily.

"Why were you even outside?" one of the Amis asks.

"I was getting my phone charger-- I left it plugged into my car this morning," Brandon explains, before Mr. Lemieux calls for everyone to be quiet.

"Can I have everyone sit down where you are, please," he says, and there's a moment of shuffling as everyone drops to the floor. "The storm's caused the roads to close, and the plows won't be coming through until late tonight. All of you are going to stay here tonight-- Nathalie and I will make sure that we have enough food for dinner from the cafeteria, and I'm sure that the costume closet can provide us with enough cushioning to sleep on. The district will be contacting your parents. Any students who require medication, please see me-- I believe that Nurse Jaclyn is still here, so we should be able to access necessary medication." Mr. Lemieux has the kind of calm, confident voice that comes with years of teaching, and no one else speaks during all of this. 

As soon as he's done speaking, there's a clamor from some of the freshmen-- the ones who haven’t been through this before. Jamie hasn’t been snowed in at the school himself, but he remembers Tyler and Sid getting snowed in last year during Into the Woods. Tyler hadn’t stopped talking about the impromptu snowball fight for at least a week.

PK and Carey corral Brandon and the other barricade boys to collect all the pillows, cushions, blankets, and bean bag chairs they can find, while Julie and Jenny start badgering everyone else to write something down on small pieces of paper for the traditional snow-in game.

It’s sort of ridiculous that the school gets snowed in often enough for the theatre kids to have a traditional game, but apparently they do-- some sort of karaoke-meets-Jeopardy hybrid that almost all of them know.

“It’s not just when we get stuck here,” Amanda says, amusement clear in her voice as she explains the rules to Jamie and the freshmen. “We play it at cast parties too.”

“There’s a lot more alcohol involved, though,” Hilary adds thoughtfully. “Because it's the cast party.”

Amanda rolls her eyes. “Which means we can explain those rules _at the cast party_ ,” she says, swatting at Hilary. “I’m trying to educate the young ones, here. One thing at a time.”

Jamie shifts where he's sitting, a little weirded out by being lumped in with the freshmen and sophomores who are new to drama productions. Honestly, he’s the same age as Hilary and Amanda.

“Naturally, the rest of you non-theater losers like Jamie are exempt-- play if you want, but unlike the fresh meat here, we won’t make you,” Amanda adds. “It’s a rule -- no unreasonable demands on the pit.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Jamie says. “I think I’ll cheerlead, then.”

“That’s important, too, you know,” Hilary offers sagely. “We can all use a little support. And cheer.”

Amanda rolls her eyes again. “Useful as ever, Hil.”

A clatter of notes comes from the piano where Sid's sat down-- Hilary glances over at him and grins. “Let the games begin!”

Jamie settles onto one of the many beanbag chairs that the barricade boys retrieved from who-knows-where (probably under the stage, which would explain why they smell so much) once the snow-in was announced. Tyler and Taylor flop down near him with Brandon and a few of the other dusty barricade boys-- he can never remember most of their names, since they all seem to be named Brendan or Brandon-- and while Taylor and the others seem to be strategizing furiously, Tyler just grins at Jamie lazily.

“You joining us?”

“Cheerleading only,” Jamie says, waving imaginary pom-poms. “Rah.” He feels a little silly, but it makes Tyler giggle, and that's worth the minor embarrassment. He wishes that Tyler was closer, that they were touching, but he'll take whatever Tyler gives him right now.

“My very own cheerleader,” Tyler responds-- still giggling-- leaning over to give Jamie a quick kiss. “How can I lose?”

“Don’t get cocky,” Taylor says, looking up from her discussion with the Brandons.

“No, of course not,” Tyler says, face serious until Taylor goes back to strategizing. He grins at Jamie again and rubs his hands together. “This is going to be fun.”

* * *

Sid reaches into the hat on top of the piano for the next slip. “‘They say I have the best ass below 14th street,’” he reads, and snickers break out across the stage. Sid rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Anyone?” Taylor blows hard on their team’s noisemaker, narrowly beating out Hilary a few beanbags away. Hilary glares. “Yes, Taylor?” Sid asks.

“‘Light My Candle,’ _Rent_ , Roger and Mimi,” Taylor says without taking a breath. 

“Correct!” Sid says. “Are you going for the bonus point? Please don't go for the bonus point.”

“Of course I am, Squid,” Taylor replies, dragging a grumbling Tyler to his feet-- not that Tyler really minds. 

Sid sighs and sits back down at the piano. “Ready?”

Taylor nods. She knocks on the piano lid and Tyler sighs.

“The door.”

And they’re off, trading lines and innuendo as they circle each other and the piano (and Sid, caught awkwardly in the middle). 

“ _Oh the wax, it’s dripping_ \--” 

“ _I like it between my_ \--”

“ _Fingers-- I figured-- oh well, good night_.” The cast snickers as Taylor prowls towards Tyler, who darts behind Sid. Taylor knocks on the piano again.

“ _It blew out again?_ ”

Taylor huffs. “ _No-- I think that I dropped my stash._ ”

“ _I know I’ve seen you out and about-- when I used to go out-- your candle’s out._ ”

It's a good performance. It's a _great_ performance, and it sours Jamie's stomach, because their chemistry is so good. He doesn't want to watch, but he can't tear his eyes away as Taylor flirts with Tyler and he flirts back, teasing her with half a receipt he found in his pocket-- _it's a candy bar wrapper_ \-- it's the worst kind of torture, because sometimes Tyler used to be like that with him, instead, before everything got too busy.

After a couple hours, most of the teams have drifted off, but there are still a few die-hard teams battling it out for the win. Sid’s been counting down the number of slips left since they reached ten slips to go, and with five slips left, Tyler’s group is in a dead heat with Hilary’s group; Julie and some of the Lovely Ladies are only a few points back. The other group of barricade boys (headed up by PK, of course) is technically still playing, but they’re so far behind that they seem to be playing for shits and giggles at this point.

Brandon (Saad, of course) and one of the not-Brandons finish singing “Sixteen Going on Seventeen”-- complete with a skateboard standing in for the usual bicycle-- before collapsing onto the bean bags in a heap. Tyler reaches over Jamie to poke not-Brandon in the arm. “You okay, Andy?”

Andy sighs from his spot half-underneath Brandon. “Skateboarding while singing is hard.”

Tyler nods sagely, as if this is a situation he has experience with. “I understand. Your sacrifice is appreciated.”

Andy’s opened his mouth to respond when Sid’s whistle pierces the air. “Okay, Taylor’s group gets the bonus point,” Sid says, nodding at Brandon and Andy. “Next up--” He draws the next slip out of the hat, and peers at its contents. “Baiting some girl with hypotheses,” he reads out. There’s a moment of silence before Tyler, Hilary, and PK all scramble for their team’s noisemakers. Tyler manages to blow their team’s noisemaker half a second before either Hilary or PK get to theirs, and Sid turns to him. “Tyler?”

“‘The Word of Your Body,' _Spring Awakening_ \--” Tyler pauses, frowning. He closes his eyes, focusing hard. “--sung by Melchior and Wendla.”

“Correct!” Sid says with a tired smile. “Extra point?”

Tyler glances at Taylor, who tilts her head and shrugs. He turns back to Sid, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll go for it.” Neither of them makes a move to stand up, though.

Sid shrugs and settles wearily at the piano, fingers tracing restlessly over the keys for a moment before starting to pick out a quiet melody. It’s not one Jamie remembers right away, but something about it teases at the edges of his memory-- he’s sure he’s heard it before.

“ _Just too unreal all this_ ,” Taylor all but murmurs, “ _watching the words fall from my lips_.” She reaches slowly for Tyler’s hand, and the moment they touch it’s like every time Jamie’s watched them onstage-- like earlier when Taylor was chasing Tyler around the piano-- but ten times, a hundred times worse. Seeing them connect with one another, fall into one another from three feet away, it’s nothing like watching them from the distance of the audience. This close, it looks-- it _feels_ \-- real.

And all Jamie can do is watch. And try to breathe.

* * *

In the light of Monday morning, Jamie tries to put the weekend, the snow, and the whole _thing_ behind him. He knows-- _he knows_ \-- how Tyler disappears into characters, how compelling he is whenever he’s on a stage. How believable he can be.

But he’s off-balance from the very beginning of the day-- nothing goes wrong, but he just can’t settle. He’s too twitchy to be much use in orchestra, and he can see both Shea and Maripier looking at him with concern. He tries to smile at them, convince them he’s fine, but. 

He doesn’t think he’s very successful.

He moves on autopilot through the day-- drifting from class to class, drifting through class. Willie seems to be gearing up to say something at the end of Calc, too, but Jamie ducks out the door before he gets anything out.

He’s not really paying attention to the rest of the hallway, though, which is probably why he very nearly gets knocked into the lockers by someone in a varsity jacket; Jamie thinks it’s someone from the wrestling team, but he isn’t in any of Jamie’s classes or in the performing arts in general, so Jamie’s not really sure who he is.

He certainly knows who Jamie is, though.

“Hey, Benn,” he says when Jamie looks up to see who bumped into him. “You have to tell me-- how did Seguin manage to score such fine freshman ass? It’s like he’s not even trying and it just falls into his lap.” 

Oh.

He can _see_ that-- he _has_ seen that: he's seen Taylor getting in Tyler's space, seen them curled together like they're the only ones in the world, singing to each other and-- 

This is what he's been missing.

When Jamie doesn’t respond, the dude rolls his eyes and walks away. Jamie doesn’t move. Jamie’s not sure he can move. It's the thought he hadn't been able to finish, the idea that's been burning in the back of his mind, and now that it's out in the open-- not a joking comment from someone in the play, not something that Jamie's imagining because he's possessive or weird or-- now that someone _else_ has said it, it's out there, it's done.

Tyler's cheating on him with Taylor. He can't believe he didn't let himself see it sooner.

“Hey.” Someone taps Jamie on the shoulder, and Jamie jumps. Willie frowns at him, clearly worried by whatever expression is on Jamie’s face. “Are you okay?”

Jamie nods woodenly. He’s fine, he can hold on until the end of the day. “I’m fine, Willie. Promise.”

Willie doesn’t really look like he believes Jamie, but Jamie can’t do this right now. The events of the last few months-- of the entire _school year_ \-- are starting to come together into something unpleasant and ugly, and Jamie can’t think about it here, now. He doesn’t have _time_ to think about it now.

“I have to get to class,” Jamie says apologetically. “Ms. Lemieux is a stickler for punctuality.” He’s off down the hall before Willie can reply-- Ms. Lemieux _is_ notorious for marking people late, but Jamie knows that’s just an excuse. He just can’t talk to Willie-- he can't talk to _anyone_ \-- about what's going on, not yet.

Not when he’s starting to think he’s been fooling himself all along.

* * *

At the end of the day he hasn't talked with anyone about it. He's thought about Willie, he's thought about calling his brother, but he can't bring himself to say the words, he can't-- he can't believe he's been so _stupid_. 

But Tyler-- Tyler. 

Tyler looks _happy_ around Taylor. Tyler's loose with her, Tyler doesn't seem like he worries around her, Tyler _fits_ with her--

He wants Tyler to be happy, even if Tyler isn't with him. He doesn't have to-- he can't-- but if Tyler is happy with Taylor, if they're good together, then he really-- he has to, because Tyler can be stupidly loyal, he knows that. Loyal and a little bit stupid, sure, and Jamie remembers Tyler saying _I can get a little bit slutty_ that first night they were making out, and-- 

Jamie's been staring down at his phone for half an hour, heart in his throat, trying to talk himself into giving up the thing that's made him the happiest he's ever been. 

And.

He can't do this any more.

His hands shake, but he manages to tap out I think we should break up.

He hits send.

* * *

_Chapter III: More Like Your Ghost_

Tyler's almost glad Jamie had the courtesy to break up with him on a Friday night; nobody asks why he spends all day Saturday in his room; his aunt doesn't question it when Taylor suddenly appears around ten a.m. It’s all just the same as any other Saturday.

It’s nothing like any other Saturday.

He just -- he doesn’t understand. Maybe they haven’t been spending as much time together, and maybe it’s been stressful, but he’s never for a minute thought that they would break up. 

Jamie’s supposed to be the one he can keep.

Jamie's the one who's supposed to _hold on to him._

Maybe Jamie's just decided-- _realized_ Tyler's not worth holding on to.

He can't sleep he can't sleep he can't sleep.

Taylor's curled around him in his bed, one arm and one leg thrown across him, holding him on the bed. Neither of them has said anything yet; Tyler's tried a few times, but he can't force the words past his lips. He hasn't cried yet, he hasn't-- he doesn't feel _anything_ but numb and awful, like the whole world's gone grey. Taylor's the only thing holding him down right now. Without her he thinks he'd be flying off the walls and finding some way to get drunk, get high, just _forget_ that he thought that he might be worthy of Jamie. That Jamie might actually love him back.

"I just don't know what I did," he manages, finally. His voice sounds awful, like he's been crying for hours instead of just lying there and wishing that he could. There's no way that he can play Marius like this. Tyler doesn't feel like he can move, doesn't feel like he can speak normally or even think about singing. "I don't--"

"You didn't do anything," Taylor says, trying to be reassuring.

"Then it's just something I _am_?" Tyler asks, because that's what he's really worried about, that it's not something that he can fix, that Jamie found fault with some core part of _him_.

"No-- no, I just-- you're a good person, Tyler, okay? Maybe this is a misunderstanding. Maybe Jamie'll show up and apologize and you guys can--"

"He's not going to," Tyler says. "I called him again last night, and he said-- there's nothing I can do. We're done."

"I don't get it," Taylor says. "You guys have been so good together. Anyone can see how much you love him, and I thought that he--"

"I guess we both thought wrong," Tyler interrupts, not wanting to hear her say _I thought that he loved you_ , because he can't stomach the past tense right now, thinks he'll throw up if he actually hears it. "I don't-- I can't. Thank you for coming."

"You're one of my best friends," she says. "Of course I'm here." She presses him a little farther down into the bed, and it makes him feel better for a moment, knowing that she's on his side. Even if Jamie gets all of their friends, Tyler hopes that he can keep Taylor. Even though Jamie's more talented, more together, not a complete fuck-up like Tyler is-- he hopes he can keep Taylor, because she's the only one that was his friend first. Everything he has at NLH was Jamie's first, in some way-- Jamie's known half the orchestra since they were big enough to hold an instrument, he's known Sid and Claude and Carey and PK and everyone that Tyler's going to have to be on stage with. He's even known Taylor since she was two, but it's not-- she and Jamie, they've never been friends. 

"I hate this," he says, scrubbing a hand across his face. "I hate feeling like this, I hate _acting_ like this, I hate--"

"Do you hate Jamie?" she asks. 

"No," he says, not even thinking about it. "No, I don't think I ever could."

He just feels… empty. And not the kind of emptiness that's waiting to be filled, not the emptiness of space that's full of stars and planets and possibility, just-- there's nothing left, he's burned out. He doesn't have anything left for himself; he spent everything on Jamie, on being good because then Jamie might like him, might actually want Tyler back, might--

There's nothing left.

Tyler closes his eyes and turns his face away from Taylor's sympathy, because he can't, he can't deal with someone being nice to him right now. 

Finally, _finally_ there's moisture in his eyes and he blinks once, twice, and then he's flat-out crying, tears running sideways out of his eyes and soaking into the pillow. He curls up even further, tucking his knees up against his chest. Taylor curls around him, her chest to his back, and for just a _second_ she feels like Jamie, even though they're nothing alike at all. "I _can't_ ," he gasps. "I can't do this, I don't-- I can't do this, Taylor."

She shushes him and finger-combs his hair while he shakes and sobs and it should make him feel better, but all it does is make him want Jamie, because Taylor's hands are smaller than Jamie's and she doesn't smell right. His throat burns and his eyes ache and he just can't stop shaking. Eventually Taylor pulls the blankets over them; it's just barely April and even though it's started to turn to spring, today is still cold. 

Outside the first flowers are starting to sprout through the snow; Tyler wants to burrow into the ice and never come back out. 

* * *

He loses Sunday in a haze of ice cream and Taylor's insistence on showing him _Moulin Rouge_ , which he has seen before so at least he can excuse himself to the bathroom when Satine dies. Because. He can't-- he can't go there yet. His aunt makes dinner and he thinks he eats some of it, but he doesn't taste anything and he goes upstairs and stares at his AP composition homework for an hour before he falls into restless sleep.

Tyler means to go to school on Monday; he showers and gets dressed and grabs his bag and his math homework and can't make himself open the door. He stands there in his-- in Jamie's orchestra sweatshirt-- 

He makes himself put down his bag, then strips off the sweatshirt. He wants to tear it in half, he wants to burn it, he wants to-- he folds it carefully and leaves it on the table in the breakfast nook. He goes back to his bedroom, pulls off his shoes, his jeans, tucks himself back in bed and wishes that it were any other day but today. He wishes that it was a week ago, six months ago, a year ago, that Jamie'd never texted him, that he'd never _met_ Jamie in the first place, that-- that he'd never fucked himself up, back in Boston. 

Tyler wants to be fourteen again, be as innocent as Taylor seems, and just _forget_ everything else.

His aunt comes up to his room half an hour after he's supposed to leave for school and puts her hand on his forehead. "How're you feeling?" she asks.

Tyler shrugs and hides his face in his blankets.

She sighs. "Does this have something to do with why Taylor was here all weekend, or are you sick?"

Tyler doesn't want to tell her, but-- but. "Jamie broke up with me," he says. "Please don't make me go to school."

Her face softens. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry." She presses the back of her hand to his forehead like she's checking to make sure he doesn't have a fever. "I'll call you in today, but you need to go back to school tomorrow, okay?"

He can probably hide in the library for most of the day, even though the library is where-- never mind. He can-- he'll try. "Yeah." His voice still sounds like he's been shouting for hours, made himself hoarse. "I might go to rehearsal this afternoon, though,"

Taylor texts him at the first break. _U coming to school?_

_staying home. is he there?_

_yeah_

_k_

_want me to punch him in the face?_ Tyler knows that it would make her happy, and the tiny part of him that's angry at Jamie would love to see that, but-- 

_nah. dont want u 2 get suspended or nething._

_k. say the word and it is done._

_see u at rehearsal this pm tho_

At least Tyler still has her-- he's got Taylor, and Nate, and Jeff, and at least a few more people he can count on. At least this time he's not totally alone at a new school; at least this time he doesn't have to deal with his parents' disappointment on top of his own. 

This time is different. 

* * *

Mr. Lemieux raises an eyebrow at Tyler when he comes into rehearsal ten minutes late, but doesn't say anything about it. His voice is okay, mostly, and Taylor glares at anyone who looks askance at him. It's really nice of her to be so protective, and even though Tyler thinks that he really doesn't _need_ her protection, there's something comforting about it. Jeff joins her in the glaring, and it's kind of like having two very small, very fierce attack dogs.

He's not supposed to be at rehearsal if he hasn't been at school that day, but no one really says anything, this close to the performance. This year, Hell Week is really hell-- things go wrong all over the place. Sid falls off the set and twists his ankle, Amanda has a two-day bout of laryngitis and dramatically overacts everything to compensate, ending with her accidentally smacking Connor, the tiny eighth grader playing Gavroche, in the face. Tuukka starts literally growling at everyone who comes to him with a tear or a last-minute costume alteration. 

The pulley for the scrim falls out of the ceiling during the first dress rehearsal and almost hits Eric, the stage right assistant stage manager. Jeff freaks out, because Jeff's been kind-of-dating Eric and Tanya for the last few months and he's watching from the stage left wings when it happens. Tyler's been happy to cover for him when he's out on dates-- it's a lot easier to explain that he's getting writing tutoring from a senior than going on awkward, very chaste dates with _two_ of them, so Tyler's worried, too, until it turns out that Eric's fine and the pulley had just barely missed him.

It's. It's a week. 

Tyler lives through rehearsals and everything else going on after school, but he can't seem to make it through the school day itself without locking himself in the bathroom at least once to remind himself how to breathe, because Jamie is _everywhere_.

After the third time he runs into Jamie before they've even gotten to lunch (for the second day in a row), Tyler decides to avoid the cafeteria altogether and holes up in Mr. B's room to eat his lunch. Mr. B isn't actually in the room, but he's always told Tyler that he's welcome whenever he needs a quiet place. Tyler's thinks Mr. B might have actually meant a quiet place to write, but desperate times call for creative interpretations. 

He's finished his food before lunch is half over, and starts to feel a little guilty about maybe taking advantage of Mr. B's offer, so he digs his favorite writing pencil and the notebook where _Going Nowhere_ lives out of his bag, setting them on the desk. He hasn't really had the energy to even think about his play since before Jamie-- in a while. But it's time. 

He picks up the notebook, flips it open to the right page. Picks up his pencil. Touches graphite to paper. He gets as far as bringing down the first line of an _H_ , and he--

He puts the pencil down.

He tries again. Notebook. Pencil. A breath--

Nothing. 

There's nothing in his head-- no dialogue, no stage directions, no _characters_. He can't hear Charlie's words, can’t see Sid or Claude or anyone playing him in his head. He's always been able to hear Charlie from the very first scene Mr. B. asked him to write, because Charlie's _him_ , and now--

Charlie's gone. 

It's like losing his voice, like having some sort of weird written laryngitis. He knows what he wants to say, he knows how this play should _end_ , he just can't bring words to paper. Tyler doesn't have time for this-- _Nowhere_ needs to be ready for casting and read through and rehearsals as soon as Les Mis closes, and right now he's still got way too much left to write.

But he can't write. 

Why can't he write?

Is Jamie going to take this from him too?

No. This-- _writing_ \-- this is _his_. He cannot lose it. 

Try again. Pick up the notebook. Pick up the pencil. Breathe--

He can't even start. He can't-- he flips to the back of the notebook, writes the alphabet twice, like maybe all he needs to do is remember how to form the letters. There. He's got letters on the page, he can-- but there's nothing, no new words when he turns back to the scene he'd been working on.

"Tyler?"

Tyler starts when Mr. Bergeron calls his name from the doorway, banging his knee into the underside of the desk. He bites his lip to keep from swearing-- Mr. B. is pretty laid back, but he’s going to let Tyler get away with that.

“Hey, woah-- are you okay, Tyler?” he asks. His eyes are kind as he perches on the desk next to Tyler, swinging his legs a little.

Tyler tries to summon up a smile for him, because Mr. B. has never been anything but encouraging for him, and he can at least pretend to be okay for a few minutes. “I’m fine, Mr. B.,” he offers with a shrug. “I just wanted to work on _Nowhere_.”

Mr. B. frowns at him. The disadvantage to actually _liking_ Mr. B is that it means that he's familiar enough with Tyler’s bullshit to see right through him. “You haven’t really seemed like yourself this week.”

Tyler avoids Mr. B.’s eyes. He's not sure if this is typical bullshit teacher reassurance or genuine concern. It's not-- it's just harder to trust people, right now. He knows he’s been slacking a little in class-- he loves writing, but it’s hard to muster up enthusiasm for anything right now. "I've just been tired," Tyler says. "You know, hell week and all."

Mr. B. raises an eyebrow, and maybe it isn't bullshit. “I understand if you don’t want to talk to your teacher about it, but if you need to talk I’m happy to listen,” he says. 

Tyler glances up at him and then looks away again. He can’t really deal with seeing the compassion on Mr. B.’s face, not if he’s actually going to tell him what’s going on. “I can’t write,” he finally says, eyes fixed on the blank notebook page in front of him. “I can’t _write_.” He can’t quite bring himself to talk about Jamie with Mr. B. but maybe, just maybe Mr. B. can fix his writing. “I'm trying to write the next scene-- the next _line_ \-- the next fucking _letter_ and nothing happens. What am I supposed to do if I can’t write?”

Mr. B. sighs. “Tyler--”

“I really thought I could be good at this,” Tyler says, finally looking at Mr. B. "Sorry for the swearing."

“You _are_ good at this,” Mr. B. says forcefully. “Tyler, you’re a great writer. Just because you’re struggling right now doesn’t mean you’ll always struggle.” He shrugs slightly. “You have to keep trying. You might not write Hamlet right away, but you definitely won’t write anything if you give up.” He pauses, clearly thinking of something else. “You could write about whatever else it is that’s upsetting you,” he offers hesitantly.

That’s part of the problem, of course-- Jamie isn’t exactly in Tyler’s play, but that’s like saying Tyler himself isn’t in it. He’s not really sure how to keep writing when he’s not sure how the story ends. He knew how it ended, he knew that it didn't end the way his life is going right now, and now it's like a rug's been yanked out from under his feet, left him sprawled and confused. 

When Tyler doesn’t respond, Mr. B. nods to himself and stands up. “Think about it, okay? And if you still can’t write next week, I’ll do my best to help. Writing’s like any other skill, okay? You still have to practice.” He goes to his desk and starts to straighten the papers. “And Tyler, I meant what I said-- you’re welcome whenever you need a quiet place. Whether that’s for writing or something else.”

Gratitude wells up in Tyler’s chest, so much so that he doesn’t think he can speak. Just the thought that Mr. B. really doesn’t mind him hiding out here-- that he has somewhere he can retreat when seeing Jamie everywhere he looks becomes too much for him-- makes him feel like maybe he can start to rebuild something from the pieces Jamie left him in. He offers Mr. B. a small smile-- tiny, but real.

He hides out in Mr. B.'s classroom every day that week, and he manages fifty words the next day, a hundred the next. It's nothing like the pace he had been writing at, but at least it's something, at least it's something he can get back.

He's alone in the room on Friday when a shadow falls across his paper. There's nothing but a doodle on it this time, some weird black swirly thing with heavy lines, and Tyler looks up, expecting it to be Mr. B., come to get him back on track, but instead it's Jason, who he hasn't seen all year.

"Dude!" Tyler says, and for just a minute, he's able to forget everything that's been going on. "Dude, what the fuck?"

"Dude, fucking mono," Jason says, grinning. "And, like, hours of fucking Hebrew school."

Tyler closes his notebook and slides his pencil in the spiral before getting up to hug Jason. They don't bother with the one-arm bro-hug that Tyler's used to with the guys on the soccer team-- no, Jason'd been his brother during Into the Woods last year, and he's been out all year so far this year. Tyler'd thought he'd transferred or something, and feels bad for never following up.

"How've you been?"

And Tyler can feel his face start to fall, because it's not-- he doesn't want to admit to Jason that he'd managed to fuck up the best thing he'd had going for him. "You know," Tyler says. "Just. College apps. Writing project for Mr. B."

"And how's the boyfriend?" Jason asks, all shit-eating grin and even, white teeth, and there must be some awful expression on Tyler's face, because Jason's eyes go wide. "Oh, shit-- did you guys break up? What the fuck?"

Tyler shrugs, looks down. "I dunno. He just-- it was last week."

"Shit," Jason breathes. "I'm sorry, dude."

"It's, you know. It's--" Tyler breaks off when Jason hugs him again, squeezes Tyler too tight against his chest. 

"I'm sorry," Jason says. "It's his fucking loss." Tyler bites the inside of his cheek to keep from crying into Jason's shirt, because that shit is not bros. He squeezes Tyler extra hard before letting go. 

"How're you doing?" Tyler asks. They both pretend they can't hear the rasp in his voice.

Jason rolls his eyes. "I've had fucking mono for the last eight months, and let me tell you-- it's the real shits, bro. Just, like, don't kiss people ever."

"Like that's going to be a problem," Tyler says bitterly. 

"He's still the only boy in the world for you, huh?" Jason says. "That fucking sucks."

"Yeah," Tyler says. He leans back against his desk. "So what brings you back here?"

"I was looking for Mr. Bergeron-- I've got hella summer work to catch up on, and he said he'd put a packet together for me."

Tyler glances at the clock. "He should be back in a few minutes? Class starts in ten, so."

"Awesome," Jason says. "So what're you working on?"

"It's--" suddenly Tyler can't think of how to describe it, not sure if he wants anyone else to know about it aside from Mr. B., but part of writing a play is wanting to see it performed, and he thinks that Jason might actually understand it. "It's a play about a guy who can't go home," he says. "Like, he's stuck on this subway car, and all these people from his life keep coming through, and--" 

Jason grabs a chair, sits on it backwards, and gestures for Tyler to keep talking. "--and they just, like, they ask him why he doesn't call any more. So it's about, like, the ways we pass through life, the effect we have on other people, and, like-- it's kind of cool, but I'm stuck."

"Boy troubles," Jason says, nodding sagely. "Lemme see-- I'm a shit writer, but I can act-- I might be able to tell you where this is going."

* * *

It's still habit when he wakes up; he picks up his phone and his thumb hovers over Jamie's name. The last text from Jamie is still I think we should break up, and he wants so badly for it to be something else, something good, but it's not.

It probably never will be again.

Instead, he scrolls up to Taylor and texts her I love him. It won't be the last time.

* * *

As soon as the performances start, it becomes very clear very quickly that basically the entire cast and crew are committed to keeping Tyler and Jamie from ever being in close proximity. They probably wouldn’t be interacting all that much anyway-- Jamie’s stuck in the pit the entire show while Tyler waits around backstage whenever he’s not performing-- but this feels deliberate.

Tyler’s so grateful.

It’s been hard enough running into Jamie at school so many times; it honestly feels like Tyler’s seen Jamie more since Jamie broke up with him than he did in the six months before that. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to get on the stage and perform at all if he had to talk to Jamie in the minutes leading up to the show. Instead he's got Taylor, who hugs him right before the lights go down, and PK, who deliberately ruffles Tyler's hair just after he puts hair spray in-- "Revolution chic!" he says, every time.

The shield that the rest of the performing arts students put between them is necessary, right now. Which makes the few times they do run into each other during the performances all the more awful.

Tyler just slips out to the hallway for a moment during intermission-- he loves Taylor, and he doesn’t even have words for how much he appreciates everything she’s doing for him right now, but right now he feels like the only time he gets a moment alone is when he’s sleeping or on the stage. And for the most part he’s glad-- too much time in his own head is definitely a bad idea right now-- but sometimes he just needs to breathe.

That’s all he’s doing, really-- leaning against the wall, eyes closed, and breathing. When he finally opens his eyes, feeling a little more settled at last, he sees Jamie coming out of the bathroom, and he can’t help the pained noise he makes.

Jamie looks towards him sharply, and it’s like every emotion Tyler’s been feeling is on Jamie’s face. Tyler takes an involuntary step towards him, and Jamie steps back, like they’re caught in some kind of twisted dance they can’t escape. He feels what little equilibrium he’s managed to rebuild shatter on the ground between them, and all he can do is stare at Jamie and try to find a way to breathe. A way to move.

A way to leave.

He’s not sure how long they stand there, but it’s long enough for Sid to poke his head out of the door to backstage. He seems to take in the situation in a matter of seconds, and Tyler can tell the moment he realizes it’s up to him to solve it. “Jamie, I think Ms. Lemieux was looking for you-- intermission’s almost over,” he says, and Jamie nods before squaring his shoulders and walking away. Sid turns to Tyler, and Tyler’s not really sure what his face is doing, but something about his expression must be pretty bad-- Sid’s own expression softens as he gently grasps Tyler’s arm to guide him back backstage.

“Sorry you had to come get me,” Tyler murmurs. He’s not really sure what Sid thinks of him-- he’s Taylor’s older brother, and she has never wavered in her devotion to Tyler, but he’s also known Jamie since they were basically infants. 

Sid shrugs. "Look, I don't know what's going on between you guys, but I'm making sure that the show will, in fact, go on, okay? And that can't happen if you and Jamie are out here staring at each other. Come on, let's get you back into the green room."

Tyler breathes. He goes.

* * *

Tyler breathes.

He stares out across the audience. For most of the show, he’s playing off of Taylor and Amanda, PK and Sid, but this-- this is the moment he craves and dreads each night in equal amounts. Just him, alone on a stage.

And he decides when to start.

Ms. Lemieux catches his eye and raises her baton. Tyler closes his eyes for a brief moment, tracing an aimless pattern on the table in front of him. He inhales, and--

“There’s a grief that can’t be spoken,” he starts, voice stark against the silence. ”There’s a pain goes on and on. Empty chairs at empty tables, now my friends are dead and gone.” Henrik’s guitar begins, and then--

“Here they talked of revolution--” The rest of the orchestra joins him on the last word, “--here it was they lit the flame--” and all Tyler can hear is Jamie. He can’t really see anything past the stage lights besides Mrs. Lemieux, but that doesn’t matter. He knows where Jamie is. He always knows where Jamie is. “Here they sang about tomorrow, and tomorrow never came.”

He looks at Jamie, at the spot he’s sure Jamie sits, playing his cello (how does it still sound so wonderful when everything about Jamie hurts now) and he lets everything he’s been feeling bubble up. “From the table in the corner, they could see a world reborn. And they rose with voices ringing, and I can hear them now --” Tyler hears-- feels-- his voice begin to shake as he thinks of the bright future he’d started to believe in (the plans Jamie had made him think were real), and takes a breath, trying to steady it. “The very words that they have sung, became their last communion. On this lonely barricade, at dawn.” For a moment, it’s too much, and Tyler looks down at the table. He knows he won’t get through this song without tears -- he never does -- but he doesn’t want to give in yet.

He’s hoarse as he begins the next verse -- oh my friends, my friends, forgive me-- but then the orchestra swells, supporting his voice and bearing him up along with them. He draws strength from TJ’s violin and Pavs’ viola, from Cam’s bass and Henrik’s guitar, and even-- though he hates it-- Jamie’s cello. It’s Jamie and his cello, more than anything, that powers his fury and pain as he tears through the bridge-- phantom faces at the window-- phantom shadows on the floor-- and they reach the loudest, most furious part together. Tyler keeps ahold of his voice by the barest thread, as oh my friends, my friends, don’t ask me rings out across the auditorium, but it’s good that he’s supposed to get quieter soon after that-- every night his anger at Jamie inevitably burns out-- too intense to be sustained for long-- leaving only the pain of Jamie's absence in its wake. The orchestra falls away again-- “empty chairs at empty tables--” and only the guitar remains as Tyler finishes the last line-- “where my friends will sing no more.” The other instruments creep back in after his last word, and then--

Jamie. The cello lilts, and Tyler runs out of breath, can't draw any back into his lungs.

The lights go down.

* * *

There's a stack of letters at Tyler's plate on a Wednesday in the middle of the performance run. Some are letter-sized and weightless; some are heavy with glossy paper. His aunt Cathy smiles at him when he sits down. He swallows hard and picks up the one on top of the stack-- he doesn't look at the outside of the envelope, just slides his finger under the flap and lets the weighty contents spill out.

Dear Tyler, the letter reads, Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you a place…

He drops the letter to the table and presses his hands over his face. He's-- he's gotten in to college, he's been accepted to at least a half dozen places, and he can't-- he can't even finish his play, how's he supposed to do _college_? How's he managed to trick all these colleges-- _good_ ones, because he'd let Gonch talk him into applying to reach schools, too-- how'd he make them think that he's good enough for college?

"Tyler?" Cathy says. She sounds worried. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he says, wiping his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just didn't really expect to get this many."

She smiles at him, clearly relieved that it's nothing serious. "You're a bright kid," she says. "Do you want to call your mom and let her know the good news?"

"Not yet," Tyler says. "Let me open them first."

He doesn't know what he's going to say to his mom-- he still hasn't told her about Jamie breaking up with him, even though he's pretty sure that Cathy'd told her. He sorts the letters into two piles-- one short pile of small envelopes, and a taller pile of the big ones. He wonders if Jamie's gotten his letters yet, which conservatories he'd been accepted into. He wonders if they'll end up in the same town-- at the same college-- even with all the work Tyler had put into not knowing. He doesn't know how he's going to finish this year with Jamie-- he hasn't planned for four years of only being able to avoid Jamie on summer breaks and holidays, the long weekends when Tyler can escape back home.

And speaking of home-- Tyler shuffles out the envelopes with Boston zip codes, and takes a deep breath.

* * *

The end of Les Mis comes too quickly. Suddenly Tyler is standing between Taylor and Amanda, singing "Do You Hear The People Sing?" one last time and taking their final bows. He thinks he feels accomplished-- he's supposed to, anyways-- but mostly he just feels numb. And relieved. 

And tired. 

Everything is too much work, and he can't believe that Taylor is actually dragging him to the stupid fucking _cast party_ later, because Jamie--

Jamie's going to be there. 

He's managed to avoid running into Jamie anywhere but passing periods and before and after a few performances (and that one horrible intermission), but the entire show is invited to the party, down to the last percussionist in the pit and the last rigger in the rafters. 

Tyler's been doing so much better at NLH than he was at his old school, but he knows, he just knows that he's going to fuck up tonight. There's going to be beer, and maybe weed, and he's just-- he's tired. He wants to stop feeling like there's nothing that he can do, and he wants-- he wants to just take a night to _forget_.

So he grabs Taylor and Jeff and leaves the theater-- they'll come back to strike the set next week, but they can leave the tape and sets and everything where they are right now. The party's at Gabe's, and Julie's the one hosting, so there's sure to be cheap and plentiful beer and maybe some baby carrots and ranch, but not a lot more. By the time they pull up, there's already music coming from the house, and Tyler takes a minute to breathe and acknowledge that maybe he's going to fuck up, but at least it'll be with people who like him. 

It's okay, at first. Tyler grabs a handful of carrots and sits in a pile of people who are complaining about blisters and how many gallons of honey-lemon tea they've had to drink in the last two weeks; he gets his shoulders prodded at and it's _nice_ , being touched by so many people at once and not having anyone want anything from him. Jenny's half-sitting on him, and Ben's behind her, even though he's not in the play, and Amanda and Claude and _half_ of the Amis, probably, except Carey and PK, who are off… somewhere. Tyler feels warm and surrounded, but then he looks up and notices that Jamie's standing on the other side of the room, staring at him. 

He feels his whole face go hot, and he meets Jamie's eyes, almost by accident. He wants to ignore Jamie, but he can't-- he is still horribly, awfully in love with Jamie, and even though he doesn't want to look back, he can't help himself. 

He closes his eyes and levers himself off the couch, out of the circle of people. He's a lot colder once he's not being touched by half the cast, and he wraps his arms around himself and walks into the kitchen.

Sid's in there, talking with Geno-- they're leaning back against the refrigerator, sides touching, and Sid reaches out and taps Tyler on the shoulder. "Good work this run," he says. "I know it wasn't easy, with everything going on with you and Jamie, but-- you're a great actor."

"It was an honor to be your son-in-law," Tyler says somberly, and Sid honks out a laugh. "Taylor makes a great wife."

Sid laughs again, pushing Tyler away this time. "Don't you even joke," he says. "I _know_ she's dating someone, and I know it's not you."

Tyler smiles guilelessly. "Come on, Sid-- me and Taylor are a match made in heaven."

"You _face_ is a match made in heaven," Sid mutters, and Geno, next to him, roars with laughter while Sid turns bright red. It hurts less than Tyler thought it would, trying to be friends with Sid, after everything that's happened. 

"So where did Julie stash the beer?" Tyler asks. Geno pushes Sid out of the way so that Tyler can get to the cans inside. Tyler grabs a couple and salutes Sid as he walks out of the kitchen and back towards the rest of the house.

This cast party's a little less exuberant than some of the others that Tyler's been to, more quiet conversation and silent reassurances than people getting sloppy and drunk. There are still people drinking, sure, so Tyler doesn't feel weird about popping the tab on his beer and sitting down to watch some of the women's ensemble play a complicated clapping game. Maybe he _won't_ fuck up as much, this time-- maybe he can still save himself from this.

The first beer goes down easy, the second a little faster, and Tyler's misjudged his tolerance, because things are a little fuzzier than he expected them to be. He's had his head in Taylor's lap for the last fifteen minutes while she's getting her feet rubbed by Nate, and listening to gossip about the freshman drama; Tyler been ignoring as much as he can. Tyler pushes himself to his feet to find some chips or something-- definitely a glass of water.

Jamie's suddenly there, in the hallway, all six feet of him, and Tyler can't do this right now. He tries to look down and push past Jamie, but Jamie stops him with a hand on his arm.

"You don't have to rub it in my face, okay?" Jamie says, and Tyler stares at him, because-- _what_??

"What do you mean?" he asks, still unable to process the fact that Jamie is _talking_ to him now, after a month of silence. He pulls his arm out of Jamie's grasp and takes a step back, putting space between them, because he can't talk to Jamie at all if they're touching.

"How happy you are," Jamie says, and Tyler-- Tyler has to think it's funny or he'll start crying.

"How _happy_ I am?" Tyler says, too loud and too shrill, and the alcohol is making the anger too easy. "Sure, I've been really _happy_ since you fucking dumped me, Jamie."

"Happier than you were with me," Jamie argues, and Tyler would walk away and let Jamie be angry, but he can't-- he can't let Jamie think that he's happy, he can't let Jamie think that Tyler would ever in a million years be happier than he is with Jamie.

"So why the fuck am I so miserable without you?" he demands, getting up in Jamie's face, too close and too far away, still. "Come on, Jamie, _tell me why I'm miserable_. Tell me why I still cry all the fucking time, tell me why I almost threw out my college acceptances, tell me why I can't-- tell me how I can be happy without you. Because I don't know."

Jamie just stares at him, mouth hanging open, like he didn't know. And maybe he didn't, maybe Tyler actually _is_ that good an actor, but he can't-- he can't pretend to find this funny any more, because it's breaking him into pieces all over again.

"And the worst part is-- the worst fucking part is that I still love you, okay?" Tyler knows that he's ugly when he cries, uglier when he's drunk, but he can't-- it's been so long since he talked to Jamie, and even though every time Jamie looks at him it feels like he's falling through shards of glass, he can't stop himself. "You broke my fucking heart, and I can't stop _feeling_ like this, and you won't-- you won't tell me what I did wrong, and I can't fix it, I can't _fix_ myself if you won't--"

"I don't--" Jamie starts to say, but suddenly Sid is there, putting one hand on Tyler's shoulder like he had earlier, in the kitchen, and Tyler just wants to crumple to the floor. 

"Tyler, Taylor and Nate are out in the living room-- they’re finding a ride home together. Why don't you ride with them," Sid suggests in a way that's actually a command. But if he's asking Taylor _and Nate_ to help Tyler home together, it means that Tyler's failed in this one final thing and Sid actually _has_ figured out who Taylor's dating. Not that Sid seems to care all that much, given the way that his eyes are soft and he doesn't look that pissed off at Tyler. 

"It's okay, Tyler," Sid says. "I'll talk to Jamie." And that's _funny_ , Sid talking to someone about their feelings, but Tyler's all out of energy now.

"Thanks," he says, and turns away from Jamie to look at Sid. He can't figure out the expression on Jamie's face at all-- it makes no sense for Jamie to be shocked, because Tyler's never lied to him about how he feels. "I'll see you at school, okay?"

"Yeah," Sid says. "Goodnight."

Tyler finds Taylor and Nate in the living room, and they're kissing-- and oh, _that's_ why Sid knew they were dating. He doesn't want to interrupt them, because he knows how little time they get together, but Taylor notices him and stops kissing Nate. "Everything okay?" she asks.

Tyler shrugs. He's just-- out of everything, he's done. "I yelled at Jamie," he says. "Sid's sending me home."

Taylor hugs him, and he doesn't have the energy to lift his arms and hug her back. He drops his head down a little so that it rests against hers. "Good for you," she says fiercely. "Come on, keys, let me drive you home."

He doesn't start crying until he's in the car, and even then, it's slow, silent tears. "I don't know how much more of this I can take," he tells Taylor, and she makes a wounded noise. "I'm just-- I'm so glad I'm graduating this year. I don't know how to be around him any more."

When he gets home, he lets Nate pull off his shoes, lets Taylor push his hoodie over his shoulders. He feels like he's five and letting his mom take care of him while he's sick. He manages to get his hands working well enough to unzip his jeans, drops them in a heap by the side of his bed. He curls up on top of the covers and Taylor and Nate sit down next to him. Taylor pets his hair and Nate rests one of his hands on Tyler's ankle.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, freezing. Both of them are gone-- he's not surprised, he didn't think they'd stay-- but his toes are like ice. He almost falls when he stands up, not used to walking on numb feet, and gets himself a glass of water from the bathroom. He's not drunk at all-- he'd had two beers, which isn't really anything to him-- 

He looks like hell, in the bathroom mirror. He drinks his water, splashes some on his face, walks back to bed. This time he throws the covers back, tucks himself in and waits to warm up.

He falls back to sleep before he does.

* * *

Jamie's the one who comes to him.

Tyler's sitting on the bleachers, like some loner in a teen drama, staring at the freshman P. E. class running laps and trying not to feel like a cliche. He knows that there are deep purple half-moons under his eyes, and he'd almost picked up his stage makeup to try to cover them before he'd just shoved on a sweatshirt and trudged his way to school. He's well and truly fucked this thing he's had with Jamie, broken it beyond any possibility of fixing, and even though Jamie had made the first crack (we should break up, I think we should break up, you seem like you'd be-- I think we should break up; he hasn't been able to quiet his head since Jamie called), Tyler's the one who threw any remainder of their relationship in the trash.

But there's Jamie, clattering his way up the bleachers towards Tyler. Tyler thinks about making a run for it, but there's really nowhere to go, and he deserves whatever Jamie's about to say to him. Jamie's got his orchestra sweatshirt on-- the one that Tyler used to steal whenever he spent more than a few hours at Jamie's house, the one that Tyler had returned to Jamie's locker and hasn't seen since-- and Tyler's palms itch to tuck themselves inside Jamie's pockets. His eyes prick and he blinks hard, suddenly missing Jamie harder than he has in a month, even though Jamie's walking towards him, climbing the stairs and getting closer.

Jamie stops a few rows below Tyler and doesn't look at him. That's-- Tyler's fine. So Jamie can't even look at him, so what, he can't--

"I'm sorry," Jamie says, and Tyler freezes.

"Don't be," he manages to respond, tugging the hems of his sweatshirt over his fingers so that he doesn't reach out for Jamie. He doesn't deserve to. "I--"

"I'm sorry," Jamie repeats, and this time he actually looks up at Tyler. He looks it, too, which is the weird thing-- his eyes are all sad, like they have been every time Tyler's seen him since they broke up, but there's something else there, too. "I-- I fucked up," he says, and it's wrong, because Tyler is the one who fucks up-- Tyler is the one who gets drunk and doesn't care who he sleeps with, Tyler is the one who had to get bio tutoring so that he didn't flunk, Tyler is the one who fucks up.

Not Jamie.

"Okay," Tyler says, because doesn't know how this goes. "I--"

Jamie interrupts him. "I thought-- I was dumb, I wasn't paying attention, and I thought-- I thought you were cheating on me."

Tyler's face goes numb. His mouth is dry, because if Jamie thought that, if Jamie was sure enough about that that he broke up with Tyler, then Tyler must have really-- he must have done something. Maybe Jamie saw something in Tyler that Tyler's been trying so hard to blot out, hide, get rid of, now that he's not in Boston any more-- or maybe Jamie just didn't know Tyler, not at all. But Tyler's sick of even pretending to be okay, and so maybe it's time for Jamie to really see him. "I wouldn't-- Jamie, I--"

"I know you didn't. I-- it was stupid, I was stupid, and I am so goddamn sorry." And Jamie looks sorry, yeah, but he'd sounded sorry over the phone, too, and Tyler doesn't know what to think. It's like he's come loose from everything, and what sucks the most at this moment is that Jamie's always been the thing that keeps him moored, keeps him safe. He wants Jamie to hold him, wants Jamie's arms around him, and he can't. 

Instead, he wraps his arms a little tighter around himself. "Do you understand how you made me feel?" he asks. 

Jamie winces. "I'm-- I didn't want you to-- I thought you'd be happier."

Tyler has to laugh at that, and it's not a pretty sound. "Do I seem like I've been happier?" he demands. "Jesus Christ, Jamie, I'm not-- I have never not been in love with you, okay? I thought-- I always mess things up. I always do. I thought I must have done something, I just wanted to be able to fix this. I don't--"

"You didn't," Jamie says. "You didn't, you-- this was all on me." He starts moving forward again, sits next to Tyler on the bleacher. He's still too far away to touch, but it's the closest that Jamie's willingly come to him in the last month. 

Tyler feels weirdly like crying, because he can't tell if they're putting the final nail in the coffin of their relationship or actually trying to salvage whatever's left. He still feels empty, hollowed out, but maybe there's room in him for something to start growing, if Jamie's there to tend it. "Okay," he says. "I don't know where that leaves us."

"I don't know, either," Jamie admits. "But I want us to be okay."

"I'd-- I want that too," Tyler says. "If it doesn't work out, though-- Jamie, I don't know if I could survive losing you again, okay? You really fucked me up, and I don't-- if you're not sure about me, about us, I think we should just leave this here. Have this moment on the bleachers where we're done, and that's it." It's like pulling teeth to say it, but he has to, he has to make Jamie understand. 

Jamie shifts closer, and Tyler can feel his warmth. "I don't want to make the same kind of promises I did before I fucked this up," he says. "But I can promise that I'll always talk to you when I get worried, and I'll always listen to what you have to say. I think I've always been in love with you, too, and I don't want-- I can't leave this here."

"Okay," Tyler says. "So we'll sit together at lunch tomorrow and-- we'll try to be friends again, because I can't just-- I can't just let you walk back in. We're going to be friends."

"Yeah, I can-- we can do that. We can be friends."

Tyler smiles, and it's weak and shaky, but it's the first time he's honestly felt like smiling in a long, long time. "We were good friends," he says. "Let's try to get that back."

* * *

_you: he's sorry_

_you: I don't know what i want to do_

_Taylor: HE BROKE YOUR HEART MAKE HIM PAY_

_you: seems kind of like a misunderstanding?????? i do'nt no_

_Taylor: does he know how much he made you cry??_

_you: i love him_

_Taylor: i know you do, ty._

* * *

Jamie brings him a brownie at lunch. Tyler stares it, because he's still in the habit of bringing too much food with him, too used to Jamie stealing half his lunch, and, like, he knows _intellectually_ that the brownie is for him, but he can't quite understand it. The hopeful expression on Jamie's face slips sideways the longer Tyler just stands there and stares, so he takes the brownie from Jamie and forces a smile. "Thanks," he says. "Can we-- yeah, let's sit."

Thankfully, the performing arts lounge is as loud as it always is, and most people are carefully not looking at either of them. Tyler notices Taylor glaring daggers at Jamie and rolls his eyes at her. "So," he starts, and he doesn't-- this is way more awkward than it should be. 

"How's your drama seminar going?" Jamie asks, and sure, they can do small talk.

"It's fine," Tyler says. "I'm actually--" He stops, because he wants to tell Jamie about writing _Going Nowhere_ and that it's going to be in the senior showcase, but it's still too close for him. He can't give Jamie that piece of him. "I'm learning a lot," he says instead. "Are you ready for your APs?"

Jamie makes a face at him. "Ugh, don't remind me," he says. "I'm just glad I'm not trying to put together a portfolio along with four tests’ worth of prep."

Tyler smiles back at him, and this one feels more real, more genuine. "I feel pretty good about mine," he says. "I mean, I just have the one, but--" he shrugs. 

"Yeah, I get that." Jamie smiles back at him tentatively. "Post-test milkshakes?"

And that's-- that's almost too much. Tyler breathes deep. "Ask me again after the tests," he says. "I can't-- I'm not there, yet."

"Sorry," Jamie says.

"Stop being _sorry_ ," Tyler says, and the fragile peace they've managed to build is crumbing in front of his eyes. If Jamie can't let things go, he won't-- but Jamie can't push, either, because-- it's an awful balancing act, and Tyler feels like he's about to fall off the beam between _this is new_ and _this never should have ended_. He still wants Jamie to hold him and tell him that the sky hasn't fallen. 

"Sorry," Jamie says again, quieter this time. "Is there anything--"

"Just--" Tyler interrupts, "just, you be you and I'll be me, and don't try to _make it up to me_ because I don't-- I don't think this is something you can make up. We have to move past it."

"Okay," Jamie says, squaring his shoulders. "Okay, I can do that."

It's been a month since they were talking every day, and it feels like forever and no time at all. Tyler has college admissions burning a hole in his pocket, and he wants to ask Jamie-- but it was his idea in the first place that they not share them. He wants to ask Jamie _should we be in the same city or not, will I want to see you every day or never _. He's got-- he's got Berkeley and Emerson and almost half a dozen other places and it's-- he's-- he has no idea what he wants.__

__Right now, though, he would settle for finishing his goddamn play._ _

__It seems weird, not to talk about it with Jamie, now that he knows that it's actually good. When they'd been together, back before everything, it'd been an extra credit project that Mr. Bergeron had made him do because he saw something in Tyler; now, it's something different. Now it's something he can look forward to._ _

__Being around Jamie doesn't magically fix things, but it makes the air a little easier to breathe. Being on better terms with Jamie makes it easier to focus, makes it easier to let go a little and stop _thinking_. Jason helps, Taylor helps, Mr. B. helps-- Tyler builds himself a web, a net, so he doesn't have to worry about falling so hard again._ _

__He shows the latest scenes to Taylor, and she pokes him until he tells her that of course she can play the female roles; he wouldn’t even consider giving them to someone else. He shows the scenes to Jason (who already said he’d play Charlie), and he suggests that Tyler ask Antti Niemi to play the rest of the male roles. Antti doesn’t really participate in the main productions at NLH, but Tyler knows from Sid and PK that he’s always in the local community productions. Plus, he and Jason have "the best chemistry, seriously, like-- we went to that dance last year and fucking _killed_ it on the dance floor. And I have always wanted to dance with that man again, if you get my drift."_ _

__Tyler doesn’t realize he’s about to finish writing _Nowhere_ until he’s maybe half a dozen lines from the end. All of a sudden, he knows how it ends, this time-- he knows where the story’s going. He writes the next line, and the next, and the next, until finally he’s putting the last period on the last line. He sets his pencil down next to his notebook, and a tension he didn’t quite realize he was carrying starts to loosen. He knows there’ll edits-- there are _always_ edits-- but he’s finished._ _

__It’s done._ _

__He’ll have to let Mr. B. know, and Taylor and Jason and Antti, but right now he just wants to take five minutes to sit with his play-- his finished play-- before it’s not totally his anymore._ _

__He can tell them in a minute._ _

__* * *_ _

__After the pain and trauma of both _Othello_ and _Les Miserables_ , rehearsals for _Going Nowhere_ are almost distressingly drama-free. It’s partly because he’s not actually acting in it-- there’s no characters for him to disappear into if he’s not playing any of the characters-- and partly because Taylor, Jason, and Antti are all genuinely good actors. _Nowhere_ ’s been living in his head for so long that seeing it brought to life is sort of astounding. _ _

__Directing is different from acting, of course it is, and Tyler'd had some practice with it in his junior year theater class, but it still feels strange to be sitting in the audience and watch someone else saying the lines he wrote. He tells Jason what kind of emotion to go for, reminds Antti how to move his arms, shows Taylor how to swing from the subway pole like it's a jungle gym._ _

__The play takes shape; Tyler's glad it's a one-act and that it'll be done in time for the senior showcase. He hadn't planned on putting anything in, but Mr. B. had talked him into it, and now Tyler has something new to worry about._ _

__Jamie doesn't come to any of the rehearsals, and Tyler doesn't ask him to. They're still learning how to just be friends, and it takes time._ _

__They take slow steps._ _

__There are mistakes and half-said sentences. The first time Jamie moves to hug him Tyler flinches, takes a step back, and it's a week before Jamie tries again. It's all half-hugs-- one arm around Tyler's shoulder, nothing like the way they used to embrace. It's like learning a new language, one that Tyler's never sure of the accent in, never really sure how the grammar works._ _

__Tyler doesn't tell Jamie when he sends in his college acceptance letter; the only person he tells aside from his family is Mr. B., who smiles at him and hands him a soft-bound copy of _Going Nowhere_. "I knew you could do it," he says. That somehow feels the most _right_ of anything: Tyler might not have a lot of faith in himself, but Mr. B.'s always had faith in him. It's a different way of proving someone's assumptions about him right, and Tyler finds he likes this a lot more._ _

__Jason corners him after rehearsal one day and makes him lie down on the stage and stare up at the lights-- they're not on, but it's interesting to see how the lighting design's been laid out. "How're you doing?" he asks. His voice echoes in the empty theater. Tyler stretches out his spine and listens to it pop._ _

__"I'm doing better," he says. It's easier to have this conversation without having to look at anyone, and he appreciates Jason doing it this way._ _

__"And Jamie?" Jason asks._ _

__Tyler exhales, drags it out as long as he can. "We're getting there. We're-- we were good friends, last year, and I think we're getting that back."_ _

__Jason laughs. "You were always a little more than _just friends_ , you know."_ _

__Tyler props himself up on his elbows so that he can glare at Jason, who meets his gaze evenly. "No, I distinctly remember there being a long period of _no making out_ last year."_ _

__Jason waves a hand at him carelessly. "It was always more than that," he insists. "You didn't know Jamie before you came here, but let me tell you-- he really lit up when you met. Like, he'd always been really fucking solid, but there was something different about him once you met him."_ _

__"Huh," Tyler says, lying back down and considering that. If he's-- maybe Tyler's not the only one who was changed by their friendship, their relationship._ _

__"I'm just saying-- I don't think you can really go back to being just friends," Jason says. "It's never going to be enough for either of you."_ _

__Tyler blinks up at the lights. He's been trying to ignore the things about his relationship with Jamie that make it less of a friendship and more something-- something _more_. He knew it would be hard to get back to being friends, but according to Jason they'd never been that-- so how do you get something back if you never had it in the first place?_ _

__* * *_ _

__First it’s the food._ _

__Jamie doesn’t bring him something every day or anything, but at least two or three times a week he’ll have some pastry, or fruit, or candy for Tyler-- and not just any old treat. These are things Tyler mentioned liking months ago, even last year, things that aren't always easy to get in upstate New York in May. There are crisp apples and weird Japanese candy that Tyler knows they don't sell at the Stop-n-Shop._ _

__Then there’s the notes in his locker._ _

__All different colors, some short, some long. One time he even gets someone (Tyler suspects it’s Ben Scrivens) to draw a pretty amazing comic with Tyler as the protagonist, and sure, he's always wanted to be a superhero, but this feels like Jamie's trying to buy his affections with food and gifts, and that's not-- maybe that's how Jordie got Jamie to be nice, but the same trick's not going to work on Tyler._ _

__He still knows the combination for Jamie's locker, though, and so he returns the apples (but keeps the candy and the comic) with a note that says Thank you, but no. They're doing okay; they don't need props to make progress._ _

__Jamie gets subtler after that, and Tyler can feel where the cracks are starting to form in his resolve to _not_ get back into a relationship with this boy._ _

__Jamie _just happens_ to have an extra juice box at lunch, Jamie lends a scarf to Tyler when there's an unexpectedly cold day. It's-- they're things that are hard to say no to, things that Tyler does his best to outwardly ignore while he's melting inside._ _

__Jamie offers him lunch on a Saturday and Tyler should say no, should tell Jamie that he's got plans with Jason, with Taylor-- that he's got a weekend rehearsal and can't make it._ _

__He knows it was a mistake to say yes when they stop in front of the ice cream place, but he goes inside anyway, orders his own chocolate shake and doesn't offer to split it half-and-half with Jamie. Tyler sets his jaw and leans back in the booth._ _

__"I know what you're doing," he says. "And you can't-- you can't force this, okay? It's coming back, but it's slow, and I can't-- I can't just turn this back on the way you want me to."_ _

__Jamie, at least, has the good grace to look chastised. "I'm sorry," he says. "I just thought-- I wanted to get milkshakes with you again. It doesn't have to be anything."_ _

__"But that's the problem," Tyler argues. "There is nothing between us that isn't something. I don't-- Jason told me that we didn't know how to be friends, and I believe him, because I've never not wanted to kiss you. I would have begged you to take me back after you dumped me, if you'd talked to me at all. I know that-- I know it's not _good._ " He shrugs, takes a sip of his shake. "I'm just fucked up, I guess."_ _

__"Tyler, no," Jamie says. "We were _great_ friends, okay? And we can-- I don't want to pressure you into anything. I never wanted that. I'm sorry."_ _

__"We weren't _just_ friends," Tyler says. "And you can't just be sorry, okay? I know you're sorry. I know you feel terrible. I know you love me, and I know I love you-- I have always fucking loved you, I just-- it's not okay. I can't just walk back into this and take you back, even though I want to. I want you so badly I can barely think, and I just want you to-- I want you to hold me and I want us to move in together and I want to spend every last day of our lives together and I can't. I can't let you. I can't let me."_ _

__It's more than he meant to say, and Jamie just kind of _sits_ there for a long minute. _ _

__"I don't know how _not_ to be sorry," he says eventually. "I _hurt_ you, and I never-- I never wanted to do that. I just-- I got all caught up in my head, and we weren't talking the way that we used to, and then there was this asshole in the hallway and he said-- it doesn't matter now, I was just an _idiot_. I jumped to a conclusion and didn't let you tell me differently."_ _

__Tyler takes a deep breath, because Jamie's listening now. "You can be sorry. You can bring me things, you can-- you can be nice. You can fucking _woo_ me, okay? Just-- I don't always want you to. I might say no. I might give you back the things you want to give me. And you have to let me. Because I need-- I need to finish figuring out me before I can think about _us_._ _

__"Okay," Jamie says. "Okay."_ _

__* * *_ _

__Back when they'd bought the prom bids, it hadn't been-- it had almost been an afterthought, an _of course we're going to prom_ \-- but now that it's a week away, it seems like a wall that they'll never be able to scale._ _

__"Can we-- can we go as friends?" Jamie asks on the Monday before the dance. He looks as nervous as Tyler's ever seen him, standing at Tyler's locker with their tickets._ _

__"Friends," Tyler agrees._ _

__On Wednesday he drops a note in Jamie's locker on his way to French class. _You can buy me a boutonniere_ , it says, and Tyler's nervous, but this is a step. He's a wreck until lunch, when Jamie shows up with a daisy that he's obviously picked off the lawn and a smile as bright as the flower. He raises his eyebrows in a question and Tyler nods, letting Jamie tuck it behind his ear. On Thursday he presents Tyler with a daisy chain just large enough for Tyler to wear as a crown-- and he does, laughing, until the end of the day._ _

__Their relationship warms with the weather, and the day of prom dawns bright and clear._ _

__Tyler isn't going in a suit, like he had last year-- matched to Jamie and anxious as fuck, wondering if he'd finally muster up the courage to kiss Jamie like he'd been wanting to for the last three months. Instead he's got a secondhand sport coat and nice slacks, his favorite button down and shoes that don't quite match the rest of what he's wearing. But it's close enough, and Jamie-- Jamie won't care._ _

__He doesn't want to put too much effort into this because if it fails, he doesn't want to-- he can't put too many eggs in this basket._ _

__Jamie shows up at his door in his orchestra suit, shiny black shoes and a boutonniere in a plastic box. Tyler smiles at him and lets him pin it on. They have dinner at the diner, Judy smiling when she sees them come in together._ _

__They're friendly, if not precisely friends. Tyler's more comfortable with Jamie than he has been in a long time, and it's an easier comfort than he'd expected it would be. The prom is a mass of sweat and loud bass, and Tyler's happy to watch the dance for a few songs before he pulls Jamie in with him. They don't dance _together_ , not quite, but they dance near each other, moving their feet and their shoulders to the beat. _ _

__It’s maybe an hour into the dance when Tyler realizes that he hasn’t seen Jamie in at least ten minutes. Tyler’s been dancing with Hilary and Amanda, Jason and Antti, even Sid for a song, so he’s only now noticing, but Jamie is actually nowhere to be seen._ _

__He’s trying to see if Jamie’s even still in the ballroom when he hears the violin._ _

__TJ is standing on the stage with the some of the other orchestra members in front of the DJ, bowing out the melody to a song Tyler knows, a song he’s listened to over and over again since the first time he heard it last year. It’s not a song that gets played at school dances._ _

__Somehow it’s still a surprise when he sees Jamie on the stage. It shouldn’t be-- Jamie’s always been the sort for sweeping romantic gestures, even more since he’s been trying to win Tyler back. But this--_ _

__This is something else._ _

__“ _Will you share your life with me, for the next ten minutes?_ ” Jamie’s voice is quiet, but it’s not hesitant. He looks right at Tyler, and all Tyler can do is stand, staring. Jamie doesn’t sing, not like this. Not on stage, in front of their entire class, just because of Tyler._ _

__Tyler may never come down to earth again._ _

__It's not his favorite song, not his favorite musical, but Jamie-- _does Jamie even know that the guy who sings this is also named Jamie?_ \-- Jamie's singing, and that's-- that's a lot. _ _

__The ballroom is mostly quiet, some couples swaying gently to the music. It's a fast waltz, but it's something you can move to, and Tyler would be watching Amanda and Hilary dance like they're floating on air if he wasn't so focused on Jamie._ _

__Jamie, who hates people looking at him for longer than a few minutes, who hides in a formal suit and an instrument that's half as big as he is, is standing at the edge of the raised platform that the DJ's on and singing to Tyler._ _

__This isn't a gift that Tyler can put back in Jamie's locker, not an offer of a coat he can decline. And he doesn't want to; this is something he can accept along with the boutonniere and the Japanese candy._ _

__Jamie doesn't sing the whole song; at the end of the second verse, he hands the mic off to Julie and the band transitions into something like an actual slow song. Jamie hops off the platform and walks over to where Tyler's still standing, like his feet are stuck to the floor. "Outside?" Jamie says hopefully, and Tyler nods, follows him out one of the double doors that overlook the gardens._ _

__It's warm outside, even this late at night._ _

__"Ten minutes?" Tyler asks, heart in his throat._ _

__"I think we can handle that," Jamie says, and there's a waver in his voice that reveals his nervousness._ _

__Tyler reaches over and takes Jamie's hand in his. "I do, too." He takes a breath, and all he can smell are the roses on his breast, the ones that Jamie had picked out for him. It's not as hard as he thought it would be to lean over and kiss Jamie softly. Jamie shudders under his mouth, and he kisses Tyler back almost desperately._ _

__"Okay," Tyler says. "Can we-- I don't want this to be over."_ _

__Jamie laughs quietly. "I don't, either. Can we-- can you let me--"_ _

__"I can try," Tyler says. "I want to try, I want-- I want us back. I just-- I want to have you waiting for me when I get back from school, I to share my life with you, I want-- I want things that are probably impossible, but I want them anyway. I don't know if they're things we can have, but I want to try again."_ _

__Jamie kisses him again; it's softer, this time, more like a promise. "Ten more minutes?" he asks, and Tyler nods._ _

__They sit, watching the stars, and forget about the time._ _

__* * *_ _

__It's fragile and it's new, the way they're together now. Jamie calls him every night that he has rehearsal; on days when neither of them has after-school activities they walk around town, talking about everything and nothing. They don't have sex again, but they spend time lying together, facing each other and touching, re-learning each other's' bodies. It's more deliberate, less accidental; they don't fall into each other so much as take steps together._ _

__Jason high-fives him and gives him a noogie at the first rehearsal after the prom. Taylor doesn't let her guard down-- she still glares at Jamie when she sees him, but sometimes her gaze is speculative instead of angry._ _

__Tyler's as ready for the senior showcase as he can get-- he thinks that Taylor might be more nervous than he is, which is somehow reassuring._ _

__Jamie had met him before the show with a dozen red roses and baby's breath, traditional and romantic and _exactly_ what Tyler wanted. "You're supposed to give these to me _after_ the performance," Tyler scolds. _ _

__"I know," Jamie says. "I just couldn't wait, and then I realized I hadn't told you to break a leg, and--" he shrugs. "I wanted you to have them now."_ _

__Tyler smiles and kisses Jamie on the cheek; he has a few minutes to find a jar and some water so the flowers don't wilt before the end of the showcase._ _

__He gives Taylor one more pep talk before walking up to the light booth to direct the show. He calls the cue; the house lights go down, the curtain goes up, and the show starts. Tyler holds his breath._ _

__* * *_ _

__"You first."_ _

__"I'm going to Berkeley," Jamie says, and Tyler's heart drops. Berkeley’s clear on the other side of the country from Emerson, and what’s worse is that Tyler even got into Berkeley and said no._ _

__"California?" he asks, because he can't-- he will call UC Berkeley and _beg_ them to be admitted, if it'll get him to California._ _

__"No," Jamie says. "No, um-- Berklee College of Music, with two E's-- it's in Boston."_ _

__Tyler can breathe again, because Jamie's going to be in _Boston_ , which means a lot more than seeing him on breaks and summers. "Okay," he says. "Okay, sorry, I just-- I got into UC Berkeley and I declined, and I thought--"_ _

__"No!" Jamie says. "No, I didn't even apply there."_ _

__"I'm going to Emerson," Tyler says. "It's-- it's also in Boston, Jamie, we--"_ _

__"Holy shit," Jamie says. "You mean after all that worrying and not telling each other anything we actually ended up in the same city?"_ _

__Tyler laughs, and it's more than a little relieved. He doesn't have to worry about Jamie being halfway across the continent; he doesn't have to worry about slipping back into the person he was when he lived in Boston, because Jamie's going to be there with him._ _

__They’ll be there together._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilery Warnings: This fic contains a non-explicit sexual encounter between a 14-year-old and two 16-year-olds; everyone is drunk and consents as well as they are able. No one suffers trauma as a result of this encounter.
> 
> Teenage characters drink socially.
> 
> Negative self-image, both physically and emotionally.
> 
> One character is convinced that their partner is cheating on them and breaks up with them; the partner is not cheating. The character apologizes and attempts to mend the relationship.
> 
> ________________________________________________________________
> 
>  **Pairings:** Tyler Seguin/Jamie Benn, Jason Demers/Antti Niemi, Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin, Jeff Skinner/Eric Staal/Tanya Staal, Hilary Knight/Amanda Kessel, Taylor Crosby/Nate MacKinnon, Julie Chu/Gabe Landeskog, implied Gabe Landeskog/Matt Duchene, imagined Tyler Seguin/Taylor Crosby, previous Tyler Seguin/OC(s) and Tyler Seguin/Brad Marchand  
>  ________________________________________________________________
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! You can find us on tumblr [here](hedgerowse.tumblr.com) and [here](penguinutopia.tumblr.com).


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